


Our Tiny Universe: A Collection

by Shinocchi



Series: Prompts & Requests [3]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Children, Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 33,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4406633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinocchi/pseuds/Shinocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their world was innocent and kind when they were young and small and knew nothing about disgust and disguise.<br/>It was a universe that was their own: one that no one could ever intrude and one that only they could understand.</p><p>A collection of kid fic + Kindergarten AU for different pairings.</p><p>::: Updated :::<br/>||| <b>History Repeats</b>- Noiz x Aoba<br/>||| <b>Hello Again</b> - Noiz x Aoba<br/>||| <b>Good Father</b> - Noiz x Aoba</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Precious [Noiz x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I should finally documenting all my stuff from my writing blog over here so these are some of my works that I thought could be compiled into one collection. Enjoy your read! :)

**‘Mm… _your_  kid before 5 in the morning’**

 

It was well past midnight when Noiz finally stepped into the nursery. Work had consumed most of his time these days and he often found himself only making it home when the hands of the minute and second stroke past dinner time. Today, another meeting had once again taken his time away, causing him to work past his working hours, and he only managed to slip out of the office the moment he ended the conference call.

 

His son was already asleep when he stood beside the cradle, his hand instinctively brushing the very little hair of his son as he sat beside him, smiling and caressing the soft and smooth texture of the baby’s cheek. It was something he would never forget to do, even when work consumed his free time, he would never allow it to take away  _this_ precious time of his.

After making sure that his son was well bundled up with the rabbit-patterned blanket, Noiz stood up and walked out of the nursery, now making his way to the next thing he’d never forget to do despite his busy working schedule.

When he opened the door to their room, the lights were off and Aoba was already cuddling under the sheets, fast asleep and with zero idea that Noiz had just entered the room. When Noiz settled himself beside him, wrapping his arm around his torso and planting a tender kiss on his face, Aoba merely fidgeted slightly as he gave out a barely audible groan without waking up. It drew a smile out of Noiz as he gave him another firmer kiss on the cheek before he prepared himself for bed.

It had been a long day and nothing could disturb his sleep.

Nothing, except…

The ear-splitting cries broke the silence of the room, causing both Noiz and Aoba to jerk awake. Still clinging onto Aoba, Noiz gave out a low grunt before he rolled to his sides. As he was about to poke Aoba awake, Aoba pulled the sheets up and covered half of his face, obviously ignoring the hints Noiz was trying to transmit to him.

“Aoba, baby is crying.”

“…know,” Aoba grunted, half-conscious and unwilling to wake up.

“Maybe he’s hungry,” Noiz continued, searching around for his Coil to check the time.

“..Nh, maybe…”

“We should feed him,” Noiz said after checking on the screen, turning around just to see Aoba sinking deeper into his pillow with his back facing him. “Aoba?”

A short silence and…

“Mm..  _your_  kid before 5 in the morning.”

Noiz checked the time again. It was 5.30 a.m.

Giving out a smile, he leaned forward to kiss Aoba on the neck before he muttered beside his ear.

“Alright then, go to sleep.”

Aoba merely replied with a quiet hum and not long after, Noiz heard soft snores from him and he instantly knew that Aoba had taken up his suggestion without any second thoughts.

It was 5.45 a.m. when he was done with preparing his son’s food; 6.00 a.m. when he was cradling his son in his arm, feeding him and humming quietly at him.

Then, it was 6.15 a.m. when Aoba came storming into the room.

“Noiz!” he called out but immediately lowered his voice when Noiz pressed a finger against his lips. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he growled, walking towards his husband and his son as he stared intently at Noiz.

“You were tired,” Noiz whispered.

“You should’ve woke me up! I thought we had an agreement.”

“What agreement?”

Now Noiz was wiping the milk off the corner of his son’s lips and rocking him gently in his arm to get him back to sleep.

“That after 5 a.m. it’s my turn to take care of him,” Aoba continued, reaching out to take his son out of Noiz’s grasp when Noiz sent a smirk in his direction.

“It doesn’t matter. You were tired, you needed sleep.”

“And  _you_  weren’t tired?” Aoba frowned as he took the baby into his own arms. “You only came back after midnight, brat!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Noiz repeated. Before Aoba could retort further, Noiz was pulling him over by the waist as he – once again – planted another kiss on his husband’s forehead. “Both of you are more important than anything else.”

It was something Noiz had been repeatedly saying ever since they ended up together. _Nothing matters more than you_. And with the addition of a new family member in their household, eventually, that trademark statement of his evolved into a ‘ _Nothing matters more than the **both**  of you_’. There was nothing Aoba could say to beat the sense into him – that Noiz was important to them too, and that Noiz needed as much attention as both of them.

But it didn’t matter, after all. All both of them knew was that they were all important to each other. But what Aoba knew extra was – he needed to manage Noiz’s schedule for him better; and also, he needed to manage his  _own_  schedule better now that he knew how selfless Noiz could be.

 


	2. Sneaky [Noiz x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains smut.

**“Shh… they’re asleep.”**

 

When Aoba stepped into the bathroom, his son was already sitting in the bathtub, chasing after a rubber duck before he looked up to see Aoba smiling at him.

“Move over, little one,” Aoba said as he stepped one leg into the bathtub while his son crawled to the edge of the bathtub, only rushing towards Aoba when Aoba was fully seated in another edge. 

“Papa! I’ve cleaned myself!” he said excitedly, settling himself in between Aoba’s legs before Aoba started smearing shampoo on his head.

“I know, that’s why you were playing with the duck, right?” Aoba responded, carefully cleaning his son’s head and making sure that the shampoo did not hurt his eyes at the same time. 

“No, I didn’t!” he immediately responded and was about to turn around to pout at Aoba before Aoba pushed his face to face forward.

“Then what do you call that?” Aoba asked instead, pointing towards the rubber duck and brushing his fingers through his son’s blond-colored hair. He smiled fondly when he reached the tips; it reminded him of how it had become a habit to do this exact same thing to his husband, and how this habit had now even affected his son. The fact that they shared the exact same texture and color wasn’t helping, either.

“It’s called Aoba!”

“Wh-what?”

“Aoba! Ducky is called Aoba!”

Aoba stopped fiddling with his son’s hair for a few moments before he burst into a laugh, his voice echoed loudly in the bathroom.

“Why does it have my name?” he asked, feeling warmth spreading in his chest when his son turned around to look at him with a face that spelled curiosity all over it. It reminded him of his father, especially when they first knew each other, the father also had this exact same expression on his face whenever Aoba asked him a question that sounded seemingly hard for him.

“Vati told me that his name is Aoba,” his son replied as he struggled out of Aoba’s grasp to fetch another three more rubber ducks sitting on the edge of the bathtub – one about the same size as the one Aoba was holding and another two which were slightly smaller – and pushed them all under Aoba’s nose.

“This,” he said as he pointed at the bigger duck. “is Noiz! And these,” Now pointing at the other two, he continued. “are me and Big Bro!”

Aoba was completely speechless now. Ruffling his son on the hair, he took all of the rubber ducks off his hands and lined them up nicely in front of them, then taking one of his son’s hand to point at each other of them.

“And they are all family,” he said as the son nodded excitedly.

“That’s what Vati said too!” 

It was true that both he and Noiz had been sharing equal time and giving their sons equal attention throughout the years they’d formed their small family. There were times when Noiz spent time with his sons – once, Aoba bumped into them fighting over who drew a better rabbit – but there were also times like these when Aoba discovered that how much Noiz valued this family through the things he did with them. And sometimes, like now, he’d also discover how Noiz unconsciously influence their sons to almost think and feel like him at the same time.

Aoba was washing his son’s hair when Noiz knocked on the door. After he heard a click, his husband came into view.

“Done?”

“Soon. Your side?”

“Waiting for you.”

Giving him a smile, Aoba put up an okay sign for Noiz to see as the younger man nodded. He was expecting Noiz to leave the place but Noiz merely leaned against the sink, still staring unblinkingly at the two of them.

“Wh-what?” Aoba started, hushing the son out of the bathtub as he made his own way out.

Noiz took a while to answer, but the moment Aoba saw a smirk on his face, he quickly ran towards him and pressed a finger against his lips.

“Don’t you dare, we have a kid here,” Aoba growled, scowling at Noiz.

“You mean  _our_  kid,” Noiz whispered, his eyes still scanning through Aoba from head to toe.

Aoba was about to give him a smack in the head when Noiz straightened himself up and paced towards the door.

“I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”

Leaving a flustered Aoba behind, along with his child who had started to put the rubber ducks back onto the counter, Aoba gave out a sigh, wondering how he managed to handle his husband all these years.

 

* * *

 

When Aoba stepped into the bedroom, Noiz was sitting up on the bed, leaning against the bedhead, half-naked, as he scanned through his hologram screens. As soon as Aoba joined him on the bed, he shut everything down, immediately pulling Aoba over by the wrist and, before Aoba could even mouth a ‘wait’, he was already pinning him down against the bed and hovering over him.

“How are the little ones?” he asked, his voice low and husky and sounded almost desperate.

“They just fell asleep,” Aoba responded with the same amount of passion Noiz had just given him as he reached out to hug Noiz around the neck. “And why are you not wearing anything, father of two?”

Noiz gave out a barely audible hum as he inched closer towards Aoba before he gave him a soft kiss on his earlobe.

“You know perfectly well why, father of two,” he whispered hotly into Aoba’s ears, imitating Aoba’s taunt. The next second, he was nibbling on Aoba’s ear, licking the shell and ultimately sucking on it as Aoba clutched him weakly on the neck.

Ever since they found themselves shouldering the responsibility to take care of two additional treasures in their life, both of them found it hard to balance between spending time with their children and with each other – privately – like this. Hence, whenever the chance was nicely dished out in front of them, they couldn’t help but cling onto each other, pressing their skins against each other and seeking desperately for each other’s warmth just like how they used to do. Just because times like these had become so rare for them that they were starting to crave for it even more, to feel each other even better, and to remind each other that they still needed each other so very much in both a physical and mental way.

Noiz had already moved to savoring Aoba’s lips while Aoba locked him down, pressing their bodies together, by hugging onto Noiz’s torso with his legs. He would’ve done a better job if not because of how amazingly gratifying Noiz’s kisses were. As if he was attempting to taste Aoba’s tongue, Noiz pushed his tongue into Aoba’ mouth, pressing both their lips and their tongues together, intermittently sucking on his tongue and successfully emitting quiet moans from the man below him before he finally separated their kiss.

“You taste like milk,” Noiz teased, wiping the saliva off the corner of Aoba’s mouth as he proceeded to kiss on his cheek.

“I… I can’t help it. I was trying out the temperature of our children’s milk,” Aoba muttered, his face turning redder with every passing second.

“Figures,” Noiz merely commented before he made his way down. Taking in the scent of Aoba’s freshly washed hair, he groaned quietly as he started to plant small kisses on Aoba’s neck, tracing its way to his throat as he gave the lump a hard suck before he continued down the other side of his neck, now sucking way much harder than the sporadic kisses he was giving him earlier.

“W-wait, Noiz, don’t leave marks,” Aoba moaned.

“They are not obvious.”

“Still…”

“It’s okay,” Noiz interrupted before he lifted himself up. “I’m done here.”

But Aoba knew that he didn’t really mean what he said because the in next second, Noiz was moving his way now to his torso. As soon as he pulled Aoba’s shirt free off him, he gave out a light smirk the moment Aoba’s body came into view. 

“You know what I wanted to say just now.” Noiz’s voice was so low when he stared fervently at his pale skin, his hand tracing the shape of it and causing Aoba to shiver out of reflex. “You’re beautiful, Aoba.”

“I told you not to say it!” Aoba exclaimed. He could literally feel the heat pooling on his face as he threw Noiz a scowl. “I’m almost in my thirties, Noiz!”

“Does that matter?” Noiz responded. “You’d look beautiful even when you’re in your sixties.”

“You…”

Whatever retorts he was about to throw out were shortly replaced by soft moans when Noiz leaned forward and sucked a mouthful of his sensitive bud. He always thought that Noiz had a way with words and no matter how hard he had tried to get used of this shameless side of his husband, he’d never succeeded. It wasn’t as if Noiz was doing this on purpose; it was just part of his personality. But still, after so many years, Aoba still felt a stab to his pride whenever the upper hand was handed so gracefully to a younger brat just like that.

Just when he got lost in his the fever Noiz was giving him, Noiz reached down to undress his pants, then slipping his hand into his brief to trace his fingers against the sensitive skin of his crotch.

“Ah… Ah, Noiz…”

“Shh.. They’re asleep,” Noiz whispered with a smirk. “Keep your voice down if you don’t want to wake them up.”

That was the last thing he ever wanted, especially not now when he had to deal with this half-awaked passion.

Giving his nipple another peck, Noiz was about to slip downwards and settle himself in between Aoba’s legs before Aoba sat up suddenly, pushing Noiz up into a sitting position as  _he_  settled himself in between Noiz’s legs instead.

“What is it?” Noiz asked, but there was no way Aoba could miss the hidden excitement in his voice. Noiz had known him too well to read Aoba’s intentions.

“Sit still,” Aoba replied quietly before he grabbed on Noiz’s crotch and moved his head closer to it. “Let me do it tonight.”

“Hmm? You could’ve told me earlier if you’re that desperate. I know we’re busy but I’m sure we can find some time to—“

“Shut up, brat. Otherwise…”

“Are you going to bite me?” 

Aoba was so close to smacking Noiz on the head again but he swallowed that urge down. This was not the time for it. Noiz was clearly luring him into a trap and he wasn’t going to allow the brat to succeed every time. He needed to uphold his pride.

Ignoring Noiz, Aoba stared at his dick, the piercings glistening weakly against the very limited light source they had in their room, before he gave the tip a swift lick, instantly feeling a smile forming on his face when Noiz gave out a small shiver. It was time like this that had always reminded him that no matter how much Noiz tended to mock him, he was still a younger brat than him but what enticed him the best was how  _sensitive_ Noiz was towards every single touch Aoba gave him. A simple lick, a simple kiss, a simple touch, every simple gesture of Aoba would always manage to wipe that smug look away and replace it with an expression that spelled greatly of want and need.

Cupping his balls, Aoba proceeded to take the whole length into his mouth, constantly sucking on the head hard to see Noiz grasping on the sheets. But that wasn’t just all that he wanted to do. Grinning, he moved his hand up to pull on his piercings while he sucked on the head, licking the precum off his slit then proceeded to sink his tongue into the slit as he pulled harder on the metal materials.

“A-Aoba,” Noiz panted. His hands were no longer on the sheets; rather, they were now clutching on Aoba’s shoulders, nails almost scratching his skin out if Aoba hadn’t released him on time. “That’s enough.”

Aoba sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and was about to say something when Noiz launched at him again, pushing him back against the bed and quickly settling himself in between his legs.

“I want you, Aoba,” he muttered feverishly into Aoba’s face. The moment Aoba nodded, he brought his fingers against Aoba’s hole and, effortlessly, slipped two of them in.

“Heh, I see you’ve been preparing yourself,” he teased, pushing his fingers as deep as he could go while Aoba covered his eyes with the back of his hand. “Now who’s more desperate than me, eh?”

”Shut up and keep moving,” Aoba growled inaudibly, which kept Noiz wonder if he was embarrassed or he was simply too lost in pleasure.

Noiz needn’t need to be told twice. A quick few thrusts later, he pulled his fingers out, positioned his dick against Aoba’s hole, and pushed himself in after giving Aoba a swift peck on the lips.

Aoba’s moans almost made him come there and then. He wanted to say something to paint a deeper shade of red on Aoba’s skin but soon he realized that he was too drown in his own pleasure to even form coherent words. He could feel himself  _so close_  to reaching the edge but he hold on to Aoba, grasping on his waist as he thrust, again and again, as deep as he could, until he hit that spot that made Aoba gave out a loud shriek, he lifted one of his leg over his shoulder and aimed specifically at his sensitive spot over and over again.

“N-Noiz, I’m close…” 

Aoba seemed to be taking all of his energy to come out with those few words as he bit into the pillow, tears flowing out of the corner of his eyes as he gripped tightly on Noiz’s arm.

“Me too, Aoba,” Noiz growled in between pants, sinking his nails into Aoba’s thighs and sucking on the nearest skin of Aoba he could find which was his leg. “Together.”

When they finally hit the edge, Aoba gave out a choked sob, crying Noiz’s name out with a hoarse voice as he felt Noiz releasing inside of him after giving out a loud pant. He felt his own hot semen hitting his abdomen and pooling on it as he heaved, trying to catch his breath and still giving out small, soft moans as he came down from the high.

“Say…” Noiz voiced out after a long silence when they did nothing but cuddled under the sheets. “I think we might need to invest in a soundproof room.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Aoba responded, eyes closed and voice barely audible with slight hoarseness in it. “What if our children cry? We won’t be able to hear them.”

Noiz fell silent, seemingly considering Aoba’s opinion before he nodded in agreement.

“But I want to hear your voice. You were suppressing it just now, right?”

“…nh..”

“We could probably build a room, you know, a soundproof one. So we can do whatever we want in the—“

A soft snore interrupted Noiz’s words and he turned to see Aoba falling asleep in his arms. Smiling tenderly, he leaned down to kiss Aoba on the forehead and was about to pull the sheets up when he heard knocks on the door.

Slipping into his pants hurriedly, he rushed to the door and opened it just to see his two sons standing on the doorway, one of them – the youngest son – hugging a rabbit plush while the other hold onto his hand.

“Vati…”

“What’s the matter?” he asked, crouching down to look at them on the same eye level.

“We can’t sleep…”

“Nightmare?”

“No.. we heard a scream and we are… scared.”

He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. Hugging both his sons, he brought them into the room, then settling them down on the bed where Aoba was nestled under the blanket.

“It’s okay. Sleep with us tonight?”

The bright smile he saw on his sons’ faces was the best and most rewarding response he could ever ask for.

Across time, it occurred to both Noiz and Aoba that no matter how much time had passed, they wouldn’t change – Noiz was still and always would be the nineteen-year-old, shameless yet endearing brat Aoba knew; and Aoba would always be the big brother figure, who’d always keep an eye on every one of his family member and making sure that they were all well taken of when Noiz continued learning more about the world.

There was nothing to be afraid of. Because in the end of the day, they knew that they’d do fine – because they had each other by their side, and that was the best reason for them to live.

 


	3. Against The Rules [Noiz x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**“Time for your bath.”**

 

Aoba was obviously  _not_  amused when his husband and his son stepped into the house, even though the expressions the other two suggested otherwise.

“May I ask where have you been?” His tone was stern, but as soon as his son ran towards him and hugged both of his legs with a bright laugh, he felt his insides soften.

“Papa brought me to the playground and there was a mud puddle and—“

“So you’re telling me that it’s a good idea to  _play_  in a mud puddle?” Aoba’s eyes were on Noiz, and Noiz didn’t need to figure too hard to know that the question was directed at him instead of their son.

“No harm trying,” Noiz said casually as he took his mud-stained coat off. “It’s not like we did it on purpose anyway.”

“Hmm, is that so?” Aoba was obviously unconvinced. Crossing his arms, he continued glaring at Noiz. “Let’s see what you have to say then.”

“It’s not papa’s fault!” The youngest of the family interrupted before Noiz could come up with a snarky defense. “I was chasing after a rabbit and I fell into the puddle.”

“You fell?” Even Noiz had to admit how amusing it was to see Aoba’s expression changed in a ninety degree way as Aoba squatted and started to examine the son’s body. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine!”

“He almost cried,” Noiz said, walking towards the both of them with his coat hung on his arm.

That was all Aoba needed to know before he wiped the mud stain off his son’s legs. 

“So, am I forgiven?” Noiz continued, noticing that Aoba wasn’t going to make any more comments. 

“Not so fast,” Aoba was quick to respond this time. “Even if it was an accident, it doesn’t mean that you should encourage him to play in the mud.”

“Papa played with me!” His son interrupted again, now rubbing on the stain on his arm. 

“That explains why you have mud from head to toe too,” Aoba eyed Noiz with a narrow glare. 

Noiz shrugged. 

“It’s not something I’ve done before. Like I said,” He took a step towards Aoba, captured Aoba’s eyes and then gave him a tasteful smirk. “No harm trying. You should try too. It’s quite… amusing.”

“Is it now?” 

“It is!”

While the son took his coat off, an imitation of what Noiz did when he came in, Noiz purposely leaned forward, catching Aoba in a quick kiss before Aoba gasped and pushed him away.

“Now you got mud on me as well!” he gritted, wiping the mud stain on his face with the back of his hand.

“That’s the intention,” Noiz said, still smirking. “It’s not too bad.”

Aoba frowned at Noiz for another while before he gave out a loud sigh. 

“I don’t know about that but it’s giving me problems,” he said as he looked at the footprints on their once nicely cleaned floor. “I’ll have to scrub these off later.”

“I’ll help,” Noiz responded. 

“You better. You have to take responsibility for this. Now,” Returning his attention to his son, who was still struggling to remove his coat off, Aoba guided him to sit on the floor, taking his shoes off for him before he finally helped him with his coat. “Time for your bath.”

“I think I need a bath too,” Noiz said, which did nothing but evoked a growl out of Aoba as he replied furiously.

“You’ll have to wait,  _dad_. Go sit in a corner and reflect on what you have done.”

It took a while until his son was completely out of his dirty clothing as he ran towards the bathroom without waiting for Aoba. 

“I can join the bath,” Noiz said again, still visibly amused with the reactions he’d drawn out of Aoba from just a simple, unintentional behavior.

“ _He_  comes first,” Aoba retorted. Collecting the clothing and bundling them in his hands, he was about to walk to the bathroom when Noiz grabbed onto his wrist.

“So you care about our son more than me now,” Noiz was literally whispering into his ears and Aoba felt a shiver running down his spine when hot breath hit his ear.

“W-well, it’s your fault for dirtying  _both_  of you and giving me more troubles,” Aoba said, although his intention to sound firm didn’t come out the way he’d wanted it to be.

“Your troubles are mine as well. Besides, you’d rather see him dirty and happy than dirty and crying, no?”

Well, Noiz had a point. But he wasn’t going to delve further into this matter. He was more than capable to know how skillful Noiz could be in bringing the situation to a direction to his liking. Coughing loudly, he gave Noiz another sideway glance. 

“I know your intention,” he confessed. “But let’s try to draw a line. I don’t want him to think that it’s fine to do this all the time.”

Aoba’s response drew a smile out of Noiz as he nodded. Giving him another quick peck on the cheek, Noiz then proceeded to walk towards the bathroom. 

“Hey, I said to let him bathe first,” Aoba rushed up and Noiz only stopped to look at him when he had one hand on the doorknob.

“Is bathing together not an option?” he asked. Amused at the way Aoba was gaping at him, he smirked lightly before he quirked a naughty eyebrow at him. “You can join if you want.”

“I…” Aoba stuttered, obviously conflicted. “I’ll scrub the floor!” 

That was the last thing he said before he turned away, pacing quickly into the kitchen while Noiz stared at his disappearing figure. 

Sure, he’d told Noiz that he wanted him to experience as many new things as he could. And he knew that Noiz had taken what he said literally and seriously. But across time, Aoba also noticed that Noiz was trying to expand his own horizon, doing things that many deemed impossible or unacceptable and yet knowing where to draw the limit at the same time.He’d like to believe that Noiz was smarter than he thought he’d be. 

And across time, he knew that his premonition was true after all. 

 


	4. The Rabbit Boy [Noiz x Aoba: Kindergarten AU]

He remembered the baby with the rabbit onesie, who sat in a corner, hugging on a rabbit plushy with a pacifier in his mouth; but what he remembered the most about the baby wasn’t the fact that he had striking blond hair, or that he was never seen without his bunny – but it was the gaze he  _always_  gave Aoba; the stare that had Aoba felt as if he was being scanned from the inside out.

He tried talking to the baby once, but the baby merely stared at him, and Aoba assumed that he couldn’t even understand him, let alone responding to him. He tried taking his pacifier off to see if his hypothesis was true but the baby scowled at him, growled, and pushed him away.

There must be a reason why the baby was staring at nothing but him for the entire time. There was no way he could ask for an answer. He didn’t even know if the baby knew the answer himself.

“What is his name?” Aoba asked one day, joining him to sit in the corner of their nursery and pointing at the big plushy the baby was hugging.

The baby looked at him, and this time, Aoba could actually see the  _disinterest_  in his eyes, amusing him at the same time. He’d never seen anyone with this expression before and it piqued his interest greatly.

“Does he have a name?” he asked again, patting the rabbit plushy on the head before he sat closer to the baby.

The baby hugged the plushy closer, burying his head in the back of the plushy’s head and Aoba swore he  _heard_  something; the baby was saying something.

“What’s your name?” he asked instead, his attention now all on the baby.

The baby was  _still_  staring at him, his gaze returned by Aoba’s anticipated one.

And then, he heard it again, that  _small_  sound that he was sure was coming from the baby’s mouth.

He pointed at his mouth, telling him to take it off. A thin, barely noticeable scowl appeared in between his eyebrows. Assuming that he needed help, Aoba lurched forward, attempting to take the pacifier off for him but was aggressively pushed away.

“I’m trying to help you,” Aoba defended, in which he was returned by a growl as the baby hugged his plushy tighter, seemingly unwilling to continue the interaction.

Stubborn, Aoba crawled towards him, patting him on his head, expecting another aggressive reaction but was surprised when the baby remained quiet, doing nothing but sucking on his pacifier and still holding the plushy close.

“You really like him,” Aoba commented quietly, his stare now shifted to look at the rabbit plushy.

That was when the baby turned to look at him. He gave him a momentary gaze, then without warning, pushed the rabbit plushy to his direction before he leaned closer, putting his weight along with the plushy on Aoba and almost causing Aoba to topple.

“H-hey!” Aoba shrieked out of reflex. But he was quickly distracted when he turned and saw that the baby was fixing his gaze, sharp, on him.

“Can I take it off?” he asked instead, pointing at the pacifier.

The baby never responded, and Aoba assumed that it was a sign of agreement. So he did what he thought was right. He reached out, took the pacifier out and gave out a sigh of relief when the baby did nothing but staring at him for the entire time.

The baby was surprisingly light-weighted. He could barely feel the weight on him as he pushed the bunny plushy out of the way and positioned the baby to sit in between his legs instead, hugging him while he did.

“Bu.. ah,” the baby made a small sound. It evoked a small wave of flutter in Aoba’s chest as he pressed their cheeks together, rubbing them and laughed happily.

“You’re so cute!” he commented.

He thought the baby was giving him a dissatisfied look again but he didn’t know that the baby was grasping hard on his hand with that very small hand of his, trying to keep him close as if he’d lose him if he was to let go of his grip.

“Bu..” he made another sound. Aoba couldn’t understand, but he knew that the baby was trying to communicate with him and it made him happy.

“I’m Aoba!” he said, even without the need for the baby to ask. “You are?”

“Let’s go home, Noiz! Oh, you’ve got a new friend.”

Aoba looked up to see two adults standing in front of them, the woman crouching down to bring the baby – Noiz – into her hands. Unwillingly, Aoba let him go, but was surprised to see that the baby was still clutching hard on his hand, seemingly unwilling to release him.

“You need to go home,” Aoba said, patting the baby on the head. He put his pacifier back into his mouth, then, giving him a bright smile, he said, “I’ll see you again tomorrow!”

That seemed to do the trick.

When Noiz left, cuddling in the mother’s hand while they made their way towards the door, he looked back, waved his hand at Aoba as Aoba returned the gesture with a wave of his own.

Now it was his turn to wait – for his grandmother to pick him up, and for tomorrow to come when he’d see Noiz again.

 


	5. Monster [Koujaku x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**“She had a nightmare, she wants to sleep in our bed tonight.”**

 

The preparation for a new house – a complete family, at this – was exhausting but it was gratifying nonetheless. They’d spent months searching for a new home, a home they were satisfied with – the home they could call ‘home’. The effort didn’t stop when they finally found it, though. There were so many things to prepare - from the most eye-catching decoration to the smallest details in the corner of the house and they ended up spending the next few months prepping for most stuff.

It was tiring; but, as they stood in the well-decorated area that was their new home, both of them gave out a relieved smile.

Now, they could call it a home.

A home that consisted of Koujaku, Aoba, and their daughter.

The first year was all about adapting to the new environment; the second year was when they finally settled down perfectly in this new home.

On the third year, Tae finally stopped lecturing too much on Aoba; she had been looking after their daughter for the most time while both Koujaku and Aoba worked for the family. But now, their daughter grew to be a sweetheart of her own – she knew how to tidy up her own room when she woke up in the morning; she knew how to help Aoba clean the dishes when they were done with dinner; and she knew how to shower and go to bed without the need for her parents to nag her into it.

She was growing into a fine lady and Koujaku could never stop bragging about her in front of his customers.

But, no matter how independent she’d grown to be, she was still, undoubtedly, a three-year-old.

And a three-year-old had their own childhood fears too.

“She had a nightmare,” Aoba said, groggy-eyed, voice barely audible, as he carried their daughter – Kaoru – into the master bedroom. “She wants to sleep in our bed tonight.”

Aoba had been working for the entire day and he wanted nothing but to cuddle himself under the comfortable sheets and knock himself out. When he heard the daughter crying in the next room, he had to drag himself out of bed, despite Koujaku telling him that he could handle it if Aoba was too tired.

As soon as Aoba placed the daughter on their bed, she immediately crawled towards Koujaku, who was sitting up, topless, with his arms wide open.

“Papa, there’s a monster under my bed, it… it won’t go away,” she sobbed, looking up at Koujaku with teary eyes while Koujaku enveloped her into a one-arm hug.

“Shh, the monster won’t be able to come here now, you’re safe here,” Koujaku hushed. Aoba had already slipped under the covers by then, the blanket covering half of his face as he snored softly. Giving Aoba a tender smile, Koujaku returned her gaze to his daughter. “Let’s sleep?”

His daughter nodded; and soon, she was cuddling in Koujaku’s arm, Koujaku playing with the messy strands of her hair before he kissed her softly on the forehead.

“Go to sleep, little princess,” he said, closing his eyes at the same time.

For a long time, there was only silence in the room, with only Aoba’s snore becoming just slightly louder with every passing second.

“Papa…”

“Hmm?” he responded out of reflex.

“Are you asleep?” the daughter asked, her voice extremely small.

“Yeah, I’m sleep talking,” Koujaku teased. When the daughter never responded, he opened his eyes, surprised when he saw – from the very dim light source in the room – that the daughter was staring unblinkingly at his exposed tattoo on his body.

“I can’t sleep,” the daughter finally said, looking up to see Koujaku staring at him. “The monster I saw had these too,” she ended and was about to point at the black swirls on Koujaku’s chest when Koujaku jolted, moving away as if he’d just gotten an electric shock.

“Papa?” the daughter called out, noticing the change of atmosphere.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Koujaku quickly said. But he was no longer looking at his child; instead, he looked away with a scowl in between his eyebrows. He took his arm off his daughter, pulling their distance apart.

“Papa, what’s wrong?” the daughter asked. She was about to shift herself closer to the father when an arm encircled around her waist, pulling her back from the back.

“Why are you still awake, huh?” Aoba whispered groggily into her ear.

But Aoba didn’t seem like he was expecting an answer either. Wrapping his daughter firmly with both of his arms, he opened his eyes, caught Koujaku’s and gave Koujaku a gentle smile that effectively softened the tension in the other man.

“What’s that?” the daughter looked over her shoulder to catch Aoba’s eyes. Koujaku looked away again, while Aoba, this time, shifted his grin to their daughter.

“That’s a proof of how strong your papa is,” Aoba said, loud enough for the words to reach Koujaku. “Those are his battle marks – the fights he had gone through, the struggles he had overcome – everything he had done to become the man he is today.”

The daughter seemed to be trying to digest what Aoba had just told her when Aoba pointed at Koujaku, who had sat up and had his back facing them.

“Look at them,” Aoba said. “Do they look like a monster to you?”

He knew that Koujaku was straining his ears to listen to his daughter’s response. But the silence spread and he found his heart sink with every passing second when he felt a small, soft touch against his back – where his tattoo was – as he let out an instinctive hitch of breath.

“Papa is not a monster.”

He was sure that Aoba was smiling at him from behind. He could feel his daughter pressing his soft cheek against his back.

And if he hadn’t learned how to control his emotions over the years  _his family_  had given him, he was sure that he’d break down right now when his daughter, along with Aoba, hugged him from behind.

 


	6. Bedtime Story [Noiz x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your turn to read bedtime stories, I’m having a long bath to myself.”

There were times when they’d take baths together – all three of them – and there were also times when the bathroom was occupied by only the two of them.

But today, Aoba decided that he wanted to have the bathroom to himself.

“Your turn to read bedtime stories, I’m having a long bath to myself.”

That was all he said before he slung a towel over his neck, opened the door, and left both Noiz and their son alone in the bedroom.

For a long while, both of them merely looked at the door, until little Wilhelm rolled over and cuddled under the sheets, eyes looking expectantly at Noiz.

“What story are you telling me tonight?”

Noiz paused, seemingly thinking of the right answer for his son before he shifted under the sheets as well.

“What story do you want to hear?” he asked instead. He wasn’t a good storyteller himself; he couldn’t tell a story as exaggeratedly and as excitingly as how Aoba did it. But for some reason, whenever he took the responsibility to tell his son a story, his son showed no less interest than when Aoba was the storyteller instead.

“The usual!” his son grinned gleefully. And as soon as Noiz laid, he quickly cuddled in his embrace, leaning against his chest and waited.

“You aren’t bored with that yet?” Noiz chuckled. There was only one story he had ever told his son – one that meant the most to him; and one that he could practically memorize from the inside out.

“I love that story,” his son responded almost instantly.

He brought his son closer, paused for another moment, before he started,

“A very long time ago, there was a boy who had a disease. Thanks to that, he was discriminated, he was unwanted; his parents left him in a room, all alone, and all he had was himself and silence.”

Noiz stopped again. Even after all these years, telling a story about his past still stung him in the heart. He felt a small presence against his chest, looking down just in time to see his son pressing his hand against his body, as if trying to feel his heartbeats.

Smiling, he held his hand, and continued,

“But when he ran away and came to a new place, he realized that it was where he wanted to be. He became obsessed with a new game – they called the game Rhyme, because he was able to feel everything he wanted to feel. It made him feel alive. But he didn’t know how it actually felt to feel alive then; he thought the sensations the game gave him was real, then—“

“—he met papa!”

Every time Noiz reached this point of the story, his son seemed to be exceptionally excited, as if this was the climax of the story and that this was everything he was waiting for.

He gave out another small laugh, ruffling his son on the hair then pinching him on the nose.

“How about you continue from here then?” he teased, grinning wider when he saw the difficult look on his son’s face.

“Little did he know that he’d become one of the biggest headaches the said papa has to face for the rest of his life.”

They didn’t even hear the sound of door opening. As they both turned to look at the source of the voice, Aoba stood, arms crossed and with the towel still hanging around his neck as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I’ve heard this story for at least ten times already,” he commented. “Don’t you have other story to tell, Noiz?”

Noiz sent a smirk in Aoba’s direction.

“I can’t help it if it’s a special request from our son,” he said, lifting his head just enough to have a good look at Aoba. “Besides, he doesn’t mind it anyway.”

Aoba let out a huff.

“Then perhaps you should think of a more creative way to tell a story? You sounded like it’s the most boring thing ever in the world.”

Noiz narrowed his eyes, effectively pushing whatever remains of Aoba’s criticism down his throat.

“You know perfectly well that’s not the case, _papa_ ,” Noiz teased. “It’s the best thing—“

“Okay, okay, I get it now!” Aoba interrupted, a faint blush appearing on his face. “I’m going to shower for real!”

And he closed the door behind him, leaving them alone in the room again.

“Why is papa angry?” the son asked after a few moments of silence.

“He’s not,” Noiz replied, laying back down. “Should we continue?”

The five-year-old nodded happily.

“So are you going to continue the story?” Noiz asked. He’d told the story multiple times, like Aoba had mindfully pointed out. But he wasn’t sure if his son had remembered everything he had told him, or if he was just selectively remembering parts that he liked the most.

As expected, his son tilted his head, looking at the ceiling as he considered.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted, which evoked a smile out of Noiz.

“Then how about you tell me what you learned about the story?”

He was curious; he needed to know.

“Oh,” his son said, thinking again before he broke into a bright smile. “Papa loves you very much!”

He thought his heart would stop beating. Was it _that_ obvious through the way he told the story?

“What makes you think so?” he asked, knowing that he probably shouldn’t take a five-year-old’s opinion too seriously but yet, his curiosity gotten the best of him as he waited eagerly for an answer.

“And you love papa very much too!”

The son wasn’t answering his question and it did nothing but intensified his burning curiosity. But he didn’t need to wait too long for the answer either.

“Because when you talk about papa, you’re always smiling! Smiling Vati is a Vati in love!”

He couldn’t answer a kid’s language. He couldn’t understand since when he was being so obvious that a young child could see through him just like that. But yet again, he didn’t need to wait too long for his doubts to be answered.

“That’s what papa told me!”

He laughed.

His son was right; he was right. He wasn’t as easy to understand as how he thought he had turned out to be; but rather, _Aoba_ was the one who had come to understand him more than he could understand himself.

And he was passing the knowledge to their son. Slowly, but surely.

 


	7. Our Rabbit Plush [Noiz x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A parent and child go shopping for groceries

Spending weekends together was an unspoken house rules in the household. It’d become the most natural thing for them to do; almost a routine. It didn’t matter if they were to spend their time in the house doing nothing but cuddling with each other on the couch; or even if they were to spend their time out of the house visiting specific places that were too crowded for their liking. What ultimately mattered for them was that they had each other’s company by their side, and nothing was greater than being able to spend time with each other, feeling the other’s warmth and feeling the other’s existence at the same time.

But this weekend, their routine took a corner shift.

Aoba was the first to wake in the morning. Intending to wake Noiz up first, who he’d flipped the blanket off the sleeping man, pulled the curtains open to let the sun in, satisfaction pooled his chest when he heard a disgruntled grunt. When Noiz refused to wake for another ten whole minutes, he attacked his ribs, almost emptying the air from his lungs before Noiz finally grasped both of his wrists, stopping him with tears in his eyes thanks to the smothering attack.

Once he’d made sure that Noiz was obediently washing himself up in the bathroom, he walked towards their son’s room, knocked softly on it, and stepped into the room to find his son cuddled under the blanket, soundly asleep. He walked as quietly as he could into the room, sat as carefully as he could on the bed before he caressed the hair of his five-year-old son gently, planting a kiss on his head and tracing a finger along his soft cheek. His sons fidgeted ever so slightly, turning around without waking up.

“Good morning,” Aoba whispered against his ear. His son trembled, obviously hearing him but still not quite awake yet. He lifted a small smile; now palming the whole of his tiny face and rubbing his thumb against his thin eyebrow, one that was a perfect mirror of Noiz’s.

“If you don’t wake up now I’ll…” Aoba muttered, drawing his hand off the boy’s face and sneaking it downwards, until it found his ribs that the boy opened his eyes, gaze meeting Aoba upfront.

“You weren’t so gentle with me before.”

A new voice echoed from the doorway as Aoba turned, along with his son, just to see Noiz leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush in his hand and scowl in between his eyebrows.

“Don’t get jealous over a kid,” Aoba teased instead. With one easy scoop, he brought his son into his arm, hugging him with one hand as he moved out of the bed to meet Noiz. Little Wilhelm was still visibly sleepy. Rubbing his hand with a knuckle, he yawned when he came face to face with Noiz, then stared blearily at him, almost dozing off if Aoba hadn’t pushed him towards the younger man.

“I’ve got a task for both of you,” he said, arms crossed and grin sneaky. “I’m thinking of preparing a good dinner today and I need help.”

“He won’t be able to help. Unless you want him to hold a spoon for you or something,” Noiz smirked at his son, who’d buried his head against Noiz’s chest the moment he landed himself in his embrace, dozing slowly back into sleep.

“Nope, I don’t want him in the kitchen either,” Aoba agreed, catching Noiz in a pleasant surprise. Before he could clarify, Aoba had taken a step towards him, purposely leaning his face towards Noiz and smirking tastefully at him. “But I want him to be somewhere else.”

Giving his son a ruffle on the hair, he walked away, leaving Noiz to repeat his last sentence unceasingly in his head.

The mystery was revealed only after they were done with breakfast. Aoba had pushed both Noiz and a wide awake Wilhelm into the room then, telling them to get ready and that they were going out for a shopping mission. Noiz could only return his son’s curious stare with a shrug as he started getting him ready, spending more time than necessary to find him the best outfit before he put on a simple casual wear for himself.

When they were both ready though, Aoba was still in his home wear, fiddling with his Coil and only looked up when he heard Noiz closing the bedroom’s door behind him.

“Go and get ready,” Noiz demanded, but was soon responded a shake of head from Aoba.

“Who says I’m going out?”

“You aren’t?” He was even more curious now. Perking an inquisitive eyebrow, he looked at Aoba, at his son, then back at Aoba again, obviously seeking for an answer.

“Nope, I’ll be staying in. Today’s mission belongs to the both of you.” His eyes still glinted with a hint of tease when he looked at Noiz, then squatting down to pat his son on the head. “Here’s a list,” he continued, pulling his Coil screen up for Noiz to see. “I’ll send this list to you. Make sure you get all of the items here. Without any of these, the meal will be a flop.”

“Would you at least tell me what you’re going to make?” Noiz asked, holding onto a thin string of hope that could help him preserve his remaining pride.

But Aoba crushed it into dust with his next answer.

“Why not you try figuring out yourself from the ingredients I gave you?” He stood up, a smirk lifted at the corners of his lips before he pinched Noiz on the nose. “Now off you go. Don’t come back too late, alright? I’d need some time to cook.”

Aoba’s tone marked the end of the conversation as he walked them towards the door, gave both of them a peck on their cheeks before he waved at them, then closing the door in their faces.

“Is papa angry?” Wilhelm looked up at Noiz, hand instinctively holding onto Noiz’s the moment it came into his line of sight.

“He’s not,” Noiz said with a smile. Grasping his son’s hand, he led them out of the space and onto the road.

“Then why is he chasing us out of the house?” his son continued asking, obvious anxiety in his tone.

“He wants us to do something for him,” Noiz said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Will he let us in again if we do what he wants us to do?”

“Of course,” Noiz responded. Aoba had caught him off guard countless times, but every time he was to suggest something totally out-of-the-world out of nowhere, Noiz still found himself stumbling a little, and by the time he came back to his senses he’d already find himself deep in the trap Aoba had set for him, leaving him with no choice but to follow Aoba’s flow.

His son’s hand was small and fragile in his. Grasping it a bit tighter, he matched his footsteps with his son, making sure that he was able to catch up. It had been years since his son started walking by himself but Noiz still caught him stumbling infrequently, falling countless times just to crawl himself back up and laughing at his own clumsiness. Noiz never knew how it once felt when he was to fall and create bruises on his skin when he was at his son’s age. He didn’t have the chance, didn’t have the option, and the first time his son had fell and laughed reminded him terribly of the time when _he_ was the one who fell, causing him to drown his son with countless check-ups just to make sure that he was perfectly fine.

The local grocery shop was already overwhelmed with people when they reached the place. Fearing that he might lose his son in the crowd, Noiz crouched and carried him instead, one hand struggling to activate the list of things Aoba had sent him before he left.

“We should go here first,” Noiz said, pointing his chin against the vegetable section. “Broccoli, carrots, brinj—hey, stop moving, you’ll fall.”

“Papa! There! There!”

Noiz quickly dismissed the hologram screen, holding onto his son with both hands, the aggressive motion almost made him slip and fall off his embrace.

“Faster! Faster!”

Following where his son was pointing at, he let out a bitter smile before he held him close, obeying and walking towards where his son intended to go.

“Put me down!” Once they were in a different department, young Wilhelm struggled harder, leaving Noiz with no choice but to do as what he was demanded to.

“Don’t run so fast,” he called out. But he didn’t need to worry even though his son was to run away by himself anyway, because he’d eventually find him here – in a corner of the toy department where a rack of bunny plushes can be found.

“I’ve bought three for you. I can’t buy more,” Noiz approached him, just in time to see him hugging one of the blue-furred rabbit plush.

“But I don’t have him yet…” He knew this trick; he’d seen this countless times. It worked the first, the second, even the third time. But on the fourth time, Aoba had finally broken through the trick and pulled his son aside after stopping Noiz from taking his credit card out of his wallet.

“You already have three of them,” Noiz repeated. “You don’t have space to keep him anymore.”

“I can keep him in your room…” his son retorted, still not giving up. “Papa…” He carried the rabbit plush, taking calculated steps towards Noiz and ultimately pulling on his pants. “I want him…”

“You can’t,” Noiz reaffirmed. “Your dad will—“

“Papa…” He was literally hugging Noiz’s leg now, pressing the rabbit plush in between his body and his father’s leg. Noiz looked down, just in time to see his son looking up at him, earnest glinting in his eyes. He looked like he was about to cry but Noiz knew he was far from that; he’d never cried that easily ever, especially not for something like this. But he was smart, he’d learned what the best way to get what he wanted was. It was again, one trait that reminded Noiz dearly of himself.

He leaned downwards, took the plush out of his son’s embrace before he pressed a finger against his own lips.

“Don’t tell your father.”

The bright grin his son gave him after that told him that it was all he needed to face the risk that he’d drawn to himself when he got home later.

He’d never once expected himself to feel so fearful when he was about to step into his own house. There was no way he could hide the item from Aoba: it was too huge and Aoba knew every corner of their house. He’d discovered the new item sooner or later anyway. Deceiving him would probably be a death sentence to the both of them.

He had yet to come up with a suitable defence for himself when his son ran towards the door, knocking loudly on it. He almost felt his own heart stopped beating.

“So did you get—I see.”

He didn’t even have the courage to see Aoba in the eyes. He heard a loud sigh, then the sound his son running into the house, predictably rushing to settle his new toy in Noiz and Aoba’s room.

“I _knew_ this would happen.” Aoba’s voice was so close to him now and he was sure that Aoba was staring penetratingly at him; he could feel the searing gaze even without the need to look at it.

He was expecting Aoba to scream at him, or to smack him on the head whenever he misbehaved. But Aoba did none of those. Instead, he pulled Noiz into the house by the wrist, pressing his hand against his face and urging him to look at him.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Aoba said. When Noiz finally met his eyes, only then that he realized that they weren’t as overpowering as he thought they would be; rather, they were gentle, and even relieved. “You’re a good father.”

He couldn’t quite understand what Aoba’s motive of doing this was, but all that he knew was that if Aoba was to be in his shoes at the exact moment when his son had asked him to buy him things, he was sure that Aoba would do the same thing as him as well.

Because nothing mattered more than the happiness of his family, even though it’d cost them a tougher route to _try_ not to spoil their son rotten; just like how they’d tried not to spoil each other too much.

 


	8. Frightened [Noiz x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The parents are hosting a dinner party and the child feels very shy amongst the strange adult.

Their anniversary had always been exceptional. As a mutual agreement, they’d decided to take turns handling their big day, giving each other an equal sense of responsibility. Noiz had prepared a cruise the previous year, dropping Aoba into a state of ambivalence, struggling between gaping in awe and anguishing the money lost but the effort was well-recognized at the end after all. The day was one of its kind; the sea was calm, the wind cooling, but above all, the privacy and the atmosphere they were surrounded in was nothing but a bliss. This year, though, the trophy of authority was handed to Aoba and Noiz had been pestering him, hinting him for the entire year, that he was expecting something “out-of-the-world” from him. Aoba could only manage a pout, looking way just in time to hide the scowl from Noiz before he supported his chin with his hand, deep in his own thought.

Noiz never bedevilled him about it later, completely leaving the decision to him after he’d told him that he didn’t need to worry about money since this was _their_ anniversary after all.

The days passed in a blink of an eye and before they knew it, it was already only one week before their anniversary date. Aoba had become obviously more tied up than usual. He was constantly on the phone, hologram screens surrounding him at most times as he checked on list after list of things to prepare for his anniversary. It was only three days before their big day that he finally broke the surprise to Noiz, almost causing the other to drop the pile of papers in his hands.

“I’ve rented a nearby hotel for them,” Aoba said audaciously, his grin wide as he slung his arms around Noiz’s neck, nuzzling his cheek against his husband’s. “Everything else are settled too. I’ve got catering to come in on that day, and I’ve also prepared a full two-day agenda to keep them busy while they’re here.”

“Aoba.” Noiz’s tone was one of unexpected, he could even hear a crack in it when he pronounced his name.

“Hmm?” Of course Aoba had expected this. He’d intended this. It was a _surprise_ after all.

“You… didn’t tell me about this,” Noiz said with a small voice, and Aoba could only take pleasure in the way he swallowed down his throat.

“Of course I didn’t. It’s meant to be a surprise after all.”

Noiz _knew_ Aoba did it on purpose. He _knew_ he’d catch him off guard anyway. Across the years, Aoba had pretty much grasped hold of how Noiz could be so relentlessly spontaneous when it came to planning overly lavish celebrations for them; but preparing a modest and heartening one was _his_ forte and he definitely wasn’t going to let his chance go especially when he had such a huge opportunity tossed right under his nose.

Noiz pushed a thumb against his temple, eyes closed with a scowl in between his eyebrows. As much as he wanted their big day to belong to them and them only, there was no way he could burst the exultant bubbles Aoba was presenting so vividly at him right now.

He couldn’t be exactly sure what he was feeling within him now: it was a mix of anticipation and confusion but when they finally made their way to the airport on the big day – Aoba had to slap himself awake after the intense lovemaking session Noiz had dragged him into the first thing in the morning – he knew that the eagerness within him was taking over every other emotions he possessed.

There was nothing more gratifying than seeing Aoba portraying such a delightful face; and there was nothing more satisfying than seeing their son, depicting an equally, if not more enthusiastic face than his father as he shook Noiz’s hand hard while they waited at the arrival gate.

Noiz was sure that his son had completely no idea of what was happening, that it was _Aoba_ ’s spirit that had influenced their son.

His mood was lifted instantly. Nothing else mattered any more than the joyful air surrounding his family.

Or so he thought.

The moment he saw Koujaku walked past the door, a frown instinctively graced his features, almost causing him to turn away if Aoba hadn’t been dragging both his husband and his son towards the gate to greet them. Clear, Tae and Mizuki appeared right after, visibly confused as they looked around, trying to sense a hint of familiarity.

“Over here!” Aoba exclaimed, waving his hand high at them.

The expression on their face took a two-second change once they spotted the familiar shade of blue. Taking quick steps towards Aoba, all of them gave him a hug, leaving Noiz and his son staring gawkily by the side.

“It’s good to see you again!” Mizuki started.

“What are you talking about? I was in Midorijima just two months back,” Aoba grinned. “Let’s go, I’ll show you the way!”

It was only then when they caught sight of Noiz and their son. Koujaku rushed up to them first, crouching down to pat little Wilhelm on the head.

“You’ve grown taller again,” he beamed. Wilhelm returned his grin with a big smile before he looked around, then suddenly throttled backwards and hid behind Noiz’s legs.

“What did you do?” Noiz scowled at Koujaku, who’d stood up and finally faced Noiz upfront.

“It’s not me,” he returned his frown.

“Sorry, I think it’s us,” Mizuki scratched his head from behind Koujaku. He was about to say something else when Clear shrieked and ran towards Noiz and his son, hands spread wide.

“You’re so big already!” Clear exclaimed, immediately squatting down to look at the five-year-old. But Wilhelm only grasped onto Noiz’s pants, hiding his entire face behind his leg.

“Clear, don’t scare him,” Aoba pouted as he escorted Tae to meet the group. “C’mon, let’s not waste time here anymore.”

Now Noiz wasn’t exactly sure if this was the best idea for their anniversary after all.

The day passed in a wave of buzz. Aoba had been occupying himself with the preparation at all times, leaving Noiz to take care of their child. The others had insisted to help out as well. After they’d settled their luggage in the hotel, they dropped by Noiz and Aoba’s apartment, assisting Aoba with the final preparation.

“Papa…” Little Wilhelm sat in between Noiz’s legs on the bed, leaning his back against Noiz and tilting his head up to look at his father. “Why is there so many people today?”

“It’s an important day today,” Noiz responded, eyes glued on the hologram screen in front of him without looking at his son.

“What is an important day?” the son asked again, now turning around to look up at Noiz.

Noiz stopped focusing his attention at the screen then. Looking down to meet his son’s eyes, he deactivated the screen, slipping two hands underneath his son’s arms and lifting him up so that he was sitting restfully in his embrace.

“It’s the day when we decided to build a family,” Noiz smiled. Imitating Aoba’s usual gesture, he pinched his son on the nose before he continued. “It’s also when we decided to have you.”

“So is this my birthday then?” His son broke into a bright smile, his eyes glistened with joy.

Noiz let out a small laugh. Whenever his son portrayed such a genuine, delightful expression, it never failed to remind him of Aoba – one trait that he found extremely endearing.

“Not exactly,” he said, pulling his son over and hugging him close. “But…” he paused, considering. “Maybe you can put it that way too.”

“Huh?”

It wasn’t something he could explain easily to his son; if ever, Aoba would definitely be a better person than him to make sense of things to him.

He was almost grateful that Aoba came knocking at the door just when his son crawled on top of him, seemingly all prepared to bombard him with more questions.

“C’mon,” Noiz got out of the bed, leading his hand towards his son. But Wilhelm crawled and hid under the blanket instead.

“I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna!” His voice muffled under the thick sheet.

Noiz smiled again. Teasingly poking on the lump on the bed that was his son, he flipped the blanket, exposing his son with one swift movement.

“Your father had prepared a lot of food for this celebration. Don’t disappoint him.”

It took a while before his son lifted his head up, peeking at Noiz. Upon seeing his father’s smile, he sat up, pouted, and took Noiz’s hand.

The living room was already in a frenetic mode when they made their way into the space. Wilhelm immediately retreated behind Noiz’s legs, clutching on his pants and taking small glimpses from the gap of his legs.

“Looks like you’ve finally grown into an adult.” Koujaku was the first person to approach him, the familiar exasperation blooming from within before he let out a smirk.

“Guess that means you’re finally old as well.”

He was sure that Koujaku would’ve given him a smack on his head already if his son hadn’t run out and hugged him on the leg.

“Uncle Koujaku!” he exclaimed, nudging his face against Koujaku’s knee and laughing gleefully into it.

“Hey, little one.” The initial aggravating air around Koujaku disappeared in a blink of an eye. Crouching down to carry the young boy up, he put up a delightful front, pinching his soft cheek as he shook him around. “Have you been bullying your father for me?”

He could literally feel the searing gaze Noiz was shooting at him now.

“I can’t! Father is father! I can’t bully father!”

Koujaku laughed. Sometimes he couldn’t help but see Aoba’s shadow in this young child, even though his physical appearance resembled greatly of Noiz.

“Stop corrupting my son,” Noiz scowled and carried his child away from Koujaku’s arms.

“Can’t help that he likes me so much,” Koujaku purposely teased, then ruffling the small child on his hair.

“I wonder why,” Noiz responded fleetingly before he swept his gaze around the space. Everyone was having the time of the moment right now: Aoba was talking with Mizuki, Clear was serving Tae with extreme amount of food and tea. He was about to walk towards them when his son pulled him on the shirt, stopping him.

“Papa…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

His son buried his head against his neck then, tiny hand grasping on Noiz’s shirt. Noiz paused for a moment, only to be hit in the head by an idea.

“Are you scared?” he teased.

His son looked up in a flash, pouting and scowling all at the same time.

“I don’t know how to talk to them…”

“You don’t need to.”

“But… Papa said to greet people…”

“Just say ‘hi’.” It was becoming too hard to sustain his chortle now and it amused Noiz by how his son’s grip tightened with every step he took towards the crowd.

“But…”

He was already standing by Aoba’s side when his son closed his mouth, launching both of his arms around Noiz’s neck and turning away from the sight instead.

“How have you been doing?” Mizuki ruffled his son on the hair.

“He’s asking you a question,” Noiz whispered in Wilhelm’s ear. “Don’t be disrespectful.”

It was something Aoba had been unceasingly telling him every time before they were to meet people from the other side of the world. Hearing it from Noiz’s mouth slapped a sense of reality back into him. He looked up, turned around, faced Mizuki with uncertain eyes before he whispered,

“H-Hi.”

“He’s asking you a question, you need to answer it,” Noiz repeated. He was obviously teasing him and Aoba couldn’t help but laugh.

“I…I’m fine.”

Mizuki seemed to have shared the same thought as both Aoba and Noiz as well as he let out a chuckle, then ruffling his son on the hair again before he continued with a ‘that’s good’.

It’d been the fifth year since little Wilhelm made his appearance in their life; it’d been the fifth year since everyone from Midorijima acknowledged the child as one from Aoba and Noiz.

And it’d been the fifth year since little Wilhelm greeted everyone as part of his family, just as how Aoba and Noiz had been teaching him to.

 


	9. Tummy Disaster [Noiz x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A parent cooks and the child doesn’t like it.. neither does the other parent.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Aoba peeked into the kitchen, giving Noiz a mischievous grin before Noiz looked over his shoulder just to send a scowl at his direction.

“It’s nothing too hard,” he said facetiously before he went back to the pot.

“I understand how you’re trying not to tire me out too much but I really won’t mind helping you out, you know? I’m sure our son would agree too,” Aoba continued, still amused at how Noiz looked so clueless when he matched the instructions on the hologram screen with what he was doing on the stove.

“I want to help too!” Wilhelm had appeared from behind Aoba’s legs, joining him to peek at his other father with a jovial smile on his face.

Noiz let out a heavy sigh. Turning around with crossed arms, he said, “I want both of you out of the kitchen now.”

Aoba laughed, one that sounded more like a tease than anything else. Waving his hand at Noiz, he placed a hand on his son’s head, leaving the place after he gave his husband a “I’ll look forward to it then!”

As soon as they reached the play room, Wilhelm ran to hug one of his rabbit plushes – he’d chosen a green-coloured one this time – and sit at one corner. The eager gaze he gave Aoba right after told Aoba enough that his head was once again swarmed with thousands of questions and he could only sustain a giggle before he made quick steps towards his son, joining him with his rabbit army.

“Why is papa so secretive?” he asked Aoba the moment he sat beside him and hugged a blue-coloured rabbit plush for himself.

“He likes to surprise us,” he beamed, fondling with the rabbit’s ears at the same time.

“Oh! Papa likes surprises!”

“He likes to surprise us too,” Aoba repeated, although he won’t deny that what his son had just stated was the truth as well. “We should think of a surprise for him too. What do you think?”

“Yes!” Wilhelm stood and inched closer towards Aoba, pressing the mouth of his own rabbit plush against the mouth of Aoba’s. “I want to make papa happy!”

“Okay, after this dinner, we’ll think of something, alright?”

His son enthusiastic nods only painted a deeper smirk on his face as he pushed the rabbit plush against the other then pulling his son into an embrace in the process.

They waited for one hour before they finally smelled the tasteful scent of curry floating its way into the play room. Putting the plushes back neatly at where they belonged, they rushed out of the room, peeping from outside the kitchen until Noiz turned to look at them.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Aoba asked again, his son staring keenly by his side.

Noiz fell silent for a few moments, then picking his apron up to wipe his hands dry.

“Maybe can you help me arrange the plates and cutleries?” he finally said. Both Aoba and Wilhelm dashed into the kitchen without a second thought; Aoba took the plates out of the cabinet, handing the cutleries to his son before they both walked towards the dining room.

“I’ll lay the plates, and you hand me the forks and spoons, alright?” Aoba instructed, soon responded by Wilhelm’s animated nods.

When Noiz finally brought out the pot of cooked curry, everything was already settled tidily on the dining table, with both his husband and his son sitting on their respective seats, eyes twinkling with unmistakable anticipation. His nerves went into rampage mode and before he knew it, he found himself wordlessly praying that this meal would be a good enough dinner to compensate for all the hard work Aoba had done for him all this while.

He returned to the kitchen to grab the pot of rice, putting a decent amount onto each of their plates before he put the pot back to where it belonged. As soon as he was seated with his family, he gave both his husband and his son a vigilant stare before he started,

“Let’s eat.”

“Thank you for the meal!” All of them said at almost the same time.

Aoba filled his son’s plate with small amount of curry from the pot first, making sure to put in enough vegetables and meat for him. Then when he returned to treat himself, his plate was already loaded with curry, the abundant of food almost overflowing his dish.

He sent a quick glance at Noiz’s direction, noticed how he was averting his eyes before he sneered, then helping himself with the food at along last.

The strong flavour of curry spread in his tongue the moment he put the spoonful of food into his mouth. It wasn’t bad, but it was _way too strong_ and it froze his brain nerves for a few seconds, attempting to get used – or rather, make sense – of the taste. It was when he was about to come back to his senses that the flavour took a corner turn, elevated and ultimately sent an unpalatable scent all over his mouth and down his throat. He could physically feel how his insides burned when he swallowed it, the scorching sensation travelling all the way down his throat and into the stomach but it didn’t stop there – it continued _burning_ , as if attempting to melt his insides raw, urging him to give out a few loud coughs.

“How is it?” Noiz’s voice whacked the reality back into him as he blinked for a few times, waiting for his intestines to calm down before he forged a rancorous smile onto his face.

“It’s… interesting, I guess,” he muttered, unsure of how else he could put his feelings into words.

“Papa…” He turned snappishly, just to see tears filling his son’s eyes.

“O-oh, I think this could be too extreme for him, you know?” Aoba immediately said, standing up and walking to the kitchen for water. “He’s just a kid, after all.”

Noiz seemed to have delved into his own realm of thoughts until he picked the spoon up and scooped a spoonful of the food, drowning it into his mouth in the next second. When Aoba came back from the kitchen with a jug of plain water, he gawked, staring as Noiz clutched his stomach, eyes closed, and obviously going through the same powerful process that had hit Aoba just minutes ago.

“It’s… not too bad,” he said, a weak effort to comfort his husband as he poured a glass of water of his son, who finished the entire glass in mere seconds before tears started falling out of his eyes.

“It’s horrible,” Noiz muttered. In the next second, he had pulled up a hologram screen, eyes darting from left to right. “Where did it go wrong?”

“I think it’s the spices you used,” Aoba explained. Picking the ladle up, he stirred the pot of curry, scooping some up and scrutinized the ingredients in it. “It’s probably a wrong one,” he concluded.

That was the only way he could explain the situation.

“But well, we can still eat the vegetables and the meats, though. Just stay away from the curry,” Aoba quickly said. “Those are delicious.”

Noiz would’ve figured it out even if Aoba didn’t have the intention to be way too obvious with his consoling attempt. The other food weren’t too bad either; Wilhelm stopped making faces after a few bites of the vegetables and Aoba even started to find himself enjoying the dinner, even though he almost bit his tongue when he accidentally tasted the curry again. As he emptied everything in the pot – still too fearful to touch the curry - Noiz lifted a smile at long last, relieved that at least he hadn’t screwed up absolutely everything for this dinner.

After tugging his son into bed, Aoba took leisure steps towards their room, finding Noiz propped up against the bedhead, visibly preparing for bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked as soon as Aoba closed the door behind him. Aoba managed a bitter smile before he clutched his stomach, slumped on the bed and started massaging his tummy.

“A bit,” he mumbled.

“You took quite a huge spoonful in back then,” Noiz tormented.

“I was excited. Hey, don’t laugh!” he pouted when Noiz’s face drew closer, his expression told Aoba that he was one step too close to start laughing at his misery. “And I wonder whose fault is that, huh?” He ended his retorts with a pout. While he tried to turn to his side, Noiz had placed a hand on his abdomen, gently caressing it over his shirt.

“I drank a jug of warm water, it should be fine tomorrow,” Aoba continued. “I just need to survive this night.”

“Seems like you’d need a distraction then,” Noiz’s voice suggested nothing but an impish intention. It had Aoba swallow down his throat but before could do anything about it, the hand that was once on his abdomen had sneaked right under his clothing, touching directly on his skin instead. “Wilhelm?”

“Already asleep,” Aoba murmured, knowing what’s going coming his way.

The curves on the corners of Noiz’s lips raised higher the moment he heard that. Shifting so that he was towering over Aoba, he took his own clothing off, helping Aoba to get out of his before he leaned in and planted a tender, almost superlative kiss along Aoba’s chest and stopping only when he reached his stomach.

“You need some soothing here.” Aoba glanced down just in time to see Noiz staring – or rather, glaring – up at him, his lime-green orbs too magnificently intimidating under the very little light source in their room.

“W-wait, need to make sure…” Aoba struggled, a futile attempt.

“I’m sure I heard you locking the door when you came in earlier. And,” he paused, tracing featherlike kisses along the area of Aoba’s smooth, fair skin. “if you don’t want our son to hear how lewd you are, you might want to watch of your volume tonight.”

He knew Noiz meant well; that perhaps he was _really_ intending to help him out with his uncomfortable tummy. But he also understood Noiz way too well to know that this was more than just a console – it was also a redemption for his ruined cooking attempt.

Aoba didn’t mind either; for all that ever mattered to him was how considerate his husband had become, and how still-passionate his husband could be when it came to intimate moments like these.

 


	10. Disturbance [Noiz x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I said ‘Bedtime’ an hour ago, why are you still up?” + “There are no monsters in the closet or under the bed.”

Wilhelm’s bedtime was 10 p.m. It always was. It was a strict rule Aoba had implemented for him after an intense round of scheming and asking around just to make sure that he wasn’t deteriorating his son’s health at a young age. Noiz had no opinion about this at all. Earlier bedtime for his son meant an early intimate moment with Aoba and while Aoba rushed his son to bed, he had already made his way under the sheets, head propped up against the bedhead while he waited for his husband to come back from attending to his son.

He didn’t need to wait for too long, though. The moment he heard the sound of bedroom door closing from a distance, he looked up from his hologram screen, let out a shrewd grin, then closed everything off, all ready to welcome Aoba into his arms.

“It’s tough today,” Aoba wailed once he launched himself into Noiz’s embrace. “He was crying about the monster he saw in his nightmare yesterday.”

“The one with a lot of hands trying to pull him into the closet?” Noiz chortled, gently brushing the top of Aoba’s head before he leaned in to plant a kiss against it.

“Yeah…”

“So is he asleep now?” Noiz asked impishly, instantly earning himself a pout from Aoba before he found the other lifting himself off his body and hovering over him instead.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Aoba frowned just ever so slightly.

“I said it for you to hear,” Noiz replied with a smirk, the corners of his lips tweaked higher when Aoba shifted himself downwards and losing himself in the sheets.

Words weren’t necessary. Years of living together had told Noiz how body language had served as one of the best communication tools between them, sometimes even more effective than verbal language. And true enough, when Aoba pulled his pants along with his briefs down, revealing his still-soft dick, he let out an instinctive moan, gratified when he felt the more than familiar wet and warm sensation wrapping around the head of his length.

“I think it’s about time you change these,” Aoba tormented from under the sheets as he flicked a playful tip of tongue against one of the piercings along Noiz’s shaft. “I can help you if you need.”

Aoba’s purposeful tease was always lethal. While it was often elicited inadvertently, it had always been a huge delight when he swarmed his attack on Noiz just like that, often catching Noiz off guard and simply allowing Aoba to do whatever he wanted, the way he wanted.

“That’d help a lot,” he responded between pants. Aoba had picked up his speed – being an expert after countless times of giving Noiz head – and his dick had become thicker and harder with every hard suck, almost giving Aoba a gag reflex when he intentionally pushed his hips upwards, hitting Aoba right at the back of his throat.

“Watch it,” Aoba reprimanded. “What did I say about staying still when I do it for you?”

“Sorry, can’t help it.” There was already pink flush on Noiz’s cheeks, visible even under the limited light source in the room and it did nothing but encouraging Aoba to do more, attempting to bring him to completion.

When Noiz’s dick gave a more than heated throb in his mouth, he knew that he was reaching it; it’d take one more hard suck for him to finish him off but before he could do exactly that, a loud shriek echoed from outside their room door, urging him to pull himself off Noiz and slipped out of the sheets.

“Oh no,” he mumbled. Quickly getting off the bed, he ran towards the door, leaving Noiz alone with his unattended peak.

When Aoba opened the door to their son’s room, Wilhelm was sitting up on his bed, hands rubbing his eyes while he cried, seemingly unaware that Aoba had entered the room. And when Aoba approached him and pulled his hands off, he jumped, almost kicking Aoba off the bed before he noticed who was touching him.

“I said ‘Bedtime’ an hour ago. Why are you still up?” Aoba sounded as if he was reprimanding his son but his son knew better that it was his usual way to distract him from whatever creepy thoughts that were haunting him now. Literally jumping into Aoba’s lap, he sobbed against his chest, giving out soft whimpers as he tried to get his words out.

“Th-there’s a monster, papa… In the closet…”

“There are no monsters in the closet or under the bed,” Aoba said, patting his son on the head. “Don’t worry, no one will come after you. Not when I’m alive.”

Embracing his son into his warmth seemed to have worked like an effective charm, alongside his unceasing soothing voice that worked perfectly like a prevailing mantra. Once he was sure that his son was calmed down, he carried him up, walked him towards the door and out of the room.

“Sleep with us tonight, okay?” he said after giving a soft peck against the little one’s cheek.

Nodding enthusiastically, Wilhelm leaned his head against Aoba’s head, snoozing back to sleep when Aoba opened the door to his own bedroom.

“Again?” Noiz asked once they made their presence in the room and Aoba didn’t need more questions to know that he had an opinion towards how things had made a turn tonight.

“I can’t leave him alone,” Aoba whispered as he settled his son in between them, then pulling the blanket up to cover the whole of his small body. “And I don’t want to be running over next door every time he starts crying again.”

Aoba had a valid point, though. He always did. And there was no way Noiz could object to that, especially not when it was concerning their son.

“What do you want to do about this then?” he asked, a desperate hint at his arousal.

Aoba chuckled. Pointing at the bathroom in their room, he gave Noiz a wicked smirk before he sank under the sheets, hands wrapping around his son’s body and he pulling him close.

“The toilet’s that way.”

As he moved out of bed, his boner still very much alive and energetic, he vowed to make Aoba pay for this – maybe ten times more than what he’d given him today.

 


	11. Proud Son [Koujaku x Aoba: Canon Divergence]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A parent gets called into school after a child gets in a fight.

* * *

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance when he received the call. He didn’t even need to pick up the phone to know what happened. The number itself had told him so; the time he’d received the call had told him so. This had been the umpteenth time this happened and he almost felt lucky to find his son still safe and sound and _yet to be expelled_  from the school. He let out a loud sigh, stood up from his office chair and sent a quick message to his husband before he strode right out of the door.

The ride to the school took less than half an hour from his workplace. But it wasn’t the journey that had twitched his nerve; it was the fact that his son had, _once again_ , conveniently and selectively, choose to cause troubles when everyone in the entire world was at work. But then again, when he tried to calm his nerves down and considered the situation a bit deeper, he realized that this wasn’t what was enraging him the most; but rather, it was the fact that his son had decided to turn a deaf ear towards every reprimand and every advice he and Aoba had thrown at him every single time he ended up in a fight.

He pulled the car right in front of the school, got off it, and walked straight in. He didn’t even need to ask to know where he was supposed to go now. As soon as he reached the principal office, he knocked on the door, action impatient, and opened in such an aggressive way that caused the educator in the room to jump a little when he made his appearance in the room.

“So how many kids are injured this time?” he asked, sitting on the chair opposite the principal and beside his son without a greeting.

“Four, including your son,” the principal – a kind-looking, young lady – smiled and answered. She seemed like she was intimidated by Koujaku the whole time and he was sure that was the only reason why his son wasn’t expelled from the school yet despite his constant misbehaves.

“How many complaints this time?” Koujaku let out a heavy sigh. He didn’t even want to look at his son, his heart heavy, his head ached.

“Two of the children’s parents had complained. But we’re handling it,” the principal answered, her tone so unnaturally calm.

“But how many more times could you handle it until they brought it up to the higher management?” Koujaku was obviously aiming at the most reasonable argument but a moment of pause told him that the principal no longer had the intention to argue on this matter anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what happened this time?” Koujaku asked. He wasn’t looking at his son, but both Noiz and the principal knew that he was directing the question at the youngest child anyway.

Noiz remained quiet, head low. Koujaku clicked his tongue, stood up, and walked towards the door, with Noiz hurriedly followed him from behind.

“You’ve got a lot to explain, young man,” Koujaku reprimanded the moment they were out of the building. “I’ve called your father. He’ll be here—ah, speaking of the devil.”

“Noiz!”

They were barely near the school gate when they saw Aoba rushing towards them, panting when he stood in front of them before he grasped a hold of Noiz’s shoulders and started to scan him from head to toe.

“You’re bleeding here,” he said, wiping the blood off Noiz’s cheek. There were small cuts at many places but other than that, Noiz didn’t seem like he was suffering any major injuries either.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Aoba looked at Koujaku, gave him a nod, then holding Noiz’s hand and leading all of them out of the school.

The car ride home was filled with silence that was too loud for any of them to endure. For many times, Aoba had tried to speak, to ask anything at all but upon noticing how intense the air was, he opened his mouth and closed it again, figuring that perhaps this was not a good time to speak after all.

It was when they were safely in the privacy of their house that he led Noiz to sit on the couch, took the first-aid kit out and started tending to his wounds, waiting for either of them to start talking.

Koujaku was the one who’d decided to break the ice.

“Are you going to tell us what happened or not?”

Aoba almost shot him a glare if Noiz hadn’t held onto his hand. Leaving his words hanging in mid-air, he returned the clutch, carefully taking care of his wounds while waiting for him to speak.

“Did they bully you again?” Aoba asked after a few seconds of pause.

“They said I’m a monster,” Noiz whispered.

“You know you’re not,” Aoba immediately corrected.

“They said I’m different.”

“Of course,” Aoba smiled. “You’re our special son.”

Noiz looked up then, first at Aoba, then at Koujaku before he lowered his head again.

“I don’t want to be a disappointment…”

The air froze. Aoba sent a stare at Koujaku’s direction, who returned it with a surprised look of his own.

“What are you talking about? You’re never a disappointment.”

“I want to prove to them that I’m equally strong,” Noiz said, voice still small but every word that had come out of his mouth hit directly into Aoba and Koujaku’s heart. “That I’m capable of taking care of both of you too. And I want to tell them…” He reached a hand out, touching Aoba on the back of the hand. “…that just because I can’t feel pain that I’m more than able to protect the both of you.”

Aoba gaped. Abandoning everything he was holding, he lurched forward and hugged Noiz, patting his head as he responded,

“Nothing’s wrong with you, you hear me? We’ll do something about that disease of yours.”

He wanted to say something else, something more, something that could wipe the insecurity off Noiz but Koujaku choose that specific moment to walk up to them and ruffle Noiz on the hair.

“You’re already strong with that thought. Don’t overexert yourself.”

Aoba chuckled. He must’ve seen himself in Noiz: one that was reckless, fearless, but yet undeniable strong despite the major flaws both of them possessed.

Even without his inability to feel, both Aoba and Koujaku knew that this child was a gift to them after all – one that was, undoubtedly, stronger than the both of them.

 


	12. Right Education [Koujaku x Aoba]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you seen my brain gelatin mold?"

He thought he’d entered a horror scene the moment he stepped into the house. Completely frozen at the doorway, his eyes fixed on the scene – blood trails blemished the floor and the walls; various utensils could be seen laying around, some were even tainted with signs of red. He swallowed down his throat. The atmosphere was shady and gloomy; cold air crept up his skin as soon as he was to do as much as to move an inch. He lifted a foot, walking unswervingly into the space, one hand already reaching for his Coil, another slowly pulling the zipper of his bag open to activate Ren.

“Aob—“

“Shh,” he stopped his AllMate before Ren could speak further. Immediately noticing the situation they were in, Ren fell silent, his gaze joining Aoba to scrutinize around the room.

“Ren,” Aoba broke the silence. “What do you think happened?”

“I—“

“Do you think someone broke into the house?” he interrupted again. Before he gotten his answer, he continued, completely oblivious towards Ren’s vigilant gaze at him. “Where’s Koujaku? Where’s Kaoru?”

“Aoba, please cal—“

“Do you think they have been attacked?”

“Aoba—“

“Do you think we should call the police?”

“Aoba, ple—“

“Papa!”

Aoba jumped at the sudden voice, almost flinging his bag out before Ren jumped out of it, throttling his way into the house and joining the source of the sound.

It took one whole minute before Aoba finally got back to himself. His heartbeats resounded deafeningly in his ears, he was still shivering slightly when an impact hit him on the body, almost throwing him back if he hadn’t been grasping onto a nearby cabinet.

“Hey,” he smiled weakly, looking down just to see his daughter grinning widely at him.

“Welcome home, papa!”

There were red blotches on his daughter’s face, the tiny hands gripping on Aoba’s clothes stained in red, creating deep marks on Aoba’s skin while squatted to take a good look at his daughter. Being five, Kaoru had braced features that had evidently told both Aoba and Koujaku that she’d grow to be not only a fine lady, but one that was equally, if not stronger than both Aoba and Koujaku. Her pair of light-brown eyes sparkled in excitement when Aoba wiped the red blemishes off her face, the tips of her dark hair congealed from dried ink.

“What are you up to, huh?” Aoba smiled bitterly, and when Kaoru answered him, she was almost jumping, the thrill visible in her.

“We’re preparing for Halloween!”

“Hallow—ah, Halloween.” He’d seen the decorations in town. While it surprised him – having known that Midorijima never had the tradition to celebrate Halloween for the past years – he’d conveniently put it at the back of his head, assuming that this was none of his concern.

“She got pretty excited when she spotted more candies than usual in the streets.”

Looking up, Aoba met Koujaku’s gaze, who was soaked in red blotches from head to toe. Before he could question more, Koujaku had spoken, as if he’d read Aoba’s question in his mind.

“And we thought perhaps we could get in the mood as well if we are to spice things up a bit in the house.”

“Well, you sure spice things up _a bit_ ,” Aoba said cynically. Standing up, his gaze wandered around the house again. Now that he knew what exactly was happening, he let out a heavy sigh. He wouldn’t even mind if it was a break-in now; at least he wouldn’t be responsible for the mess he had landed himself in. But now that both his husband and his daughter were the cause of this unsightly scene, he could only grit his teeth, trying hard not to think about the cleaning up process as he walked into the house, with his daughter literally hopping her way in before him.

“So? What are both of you up to?”

“Halloween is all about the spooks,” Koujaku reiterated, the confidence in his tone resonated of nothing but pride. “So we thought perhaps we could create some spooky feeling here.”

He sure did. But Aoba wasn’t going to admit it so easily. He’d already gotten chills running down his spine when he spotted an eyeball rolling on the floor and ultimately disappeared in one corner. While Ren ran after it, he sat on the bed, one finger massaging his temple.

“So…” he started again. “How can I hel—“

“Papa, have you seen my brain gelatin mold?”

Brain… what? It didn’t take too long for Aoba to find his answer though because in the next second, Koujaku had pushed what looked up a cut-up brain towards his daughter, the mere scene forming goosebumps all over Aoba.

“O-oi, do you think this is really a good idea?”

“What is it, Aoba?” Beni voiced out at long last, flying his way towards Aoba and landed on his shoulder where he gave Aoba a mischievous look. “Are you scared?”

“N-no! Of course not!” He’d seen enough blood in his life to be afraid of it. But it was sure… stirring to see his daughter cutting up a brain mold like that. It gave him a peculiar squeeze in his chest before he let out a cough, heightening his voice and asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Hmmm…” Koujaku supported his chin with a hand, looking up at the ceiling, momentarily lost in thoughts. “Maybe you can help Kaoru to fill in this—“ he hold up a packet of what looked like red liquid that was supposed to be fake blood. “—into the mold.”

“Okay.” With just a meek reply, he joined his daughter, a thin frown appeared in between his eyebrows when he noticed how brutally his daughter was slicing the mold.

“Hey, Koujaku,” he said, voice now small, as if he was trying to hide whatever he was to say from his daughter. “Do you think this is _really_ a good idea?”

“Hmm? Why not?” Koujaku said carelessly, his attention focused on the skull he was painting now.

“I mean, won’t this be a bad influence to her?”

“Why would it be? She’s having so much fun.”

“That’s exactly my point!”

“Oh.” As if he’d just noticed what Aoba was trying to say, Koujaku smiled, moving his vision to his daughter, who was now attempting to tear a bag of fake blood open, then back to Aoba. “I think we can let this pass for now. But,” he leaned closer, pecking Aoba on the nose before he continued. “We’ll need to talk to her properly later.”

With that, Aoba released a relieved smile, giving Koujaku a final nod before he went over to help his daughter out with the packet.

Raising a child had been challenging. At times like these, Aoba would often doubt if he was giving his child the right education after all. But as Koujaku liked to point out to Aoba whenever he fell into a state of reflection, he came to realize that there was no way he could protect Kaoru from absolutely everything harmful. Sooner or later, she’d have to face the way real world worked, including cruel treatments and, undoubtedly, vehement scenes.

Prevention wasn’t the best way to educate. And with the determined smile Koujaku always gave him whenever he raised his qualms at him, he knew that they, being the two persons who had both emotionally and physically undergone such cruel reality, would be the best person to instil that much needed revelation to their daughter.

But those can wait. They would tell her one day. The day was not today.

 


	13. Dressed Up! [Koujaku x Noiz x Aoba: Kindergarten AU]

They didn’t have a lot of friends. They didn’t have siblings either. But they had a least one person who they could refer to as their best friend. 

Well, at least that was what they thought it was.

 

Every time Aoba arrived at the nursery, the first thing he’d do was to look around the place, smiling brightly only when he found ‘the big brother’ he was looking for. The said 'big brother’ would then give him a brighter smile and proceed to hold his hand while they sat and played in their usual corner. It didn’t matter if everyone else was laughing at his hair, at how he kept it long despite being a boy; because he knew that even if he was to call them his 'friend’, they wouldn’t treat him as genuinely as how Koujaku did anyway.

Usually, he’d pass his day with Koujaku, normally and peacefully. Until one day when he walked into the place and saw that his nursery had suddenly turned into a whole different place overnight. 

Almost feeling terrified, he quickly looked around for Koujaku but what upset him was that he  _couldn’t_ and that everyone else was  _not being themselves_ and it did nothing but further intensifying his fear. He was so close to leave the place and just stay outdoor until the end of the day until he noticed someone pulling on the hem of his shirt.

Looking down, he saw a bunch of yellow feathers, then a small hand gripping so hard on his shirt as if he was holding on it for dear life. Curious, he squatted, attempting to take a better look of the foreign 'item’ before the said bunch of yellow feathers looked up at him.

“Noiz!” Aoba exclaimed, immediately reaching out to him and hugging him in his hands. “Why do you look like that?!”

Noiz looked like as if he would be suffocated by the yellow feathers he was literally wearing on himself. As Aoba stared at his emotionless face while Noiz sucked on his pacifier, Aoba couldn’t help but give out a laugh. Noiz looked like a duckling and when he moved his arms he looked like he was flapping his wings. 

He looked kinda…  _cute_.

“Noiz, you’re a duckling!” Aoba continued laughing, holding tight to Noiz as he carried him to one corner of the room. Now that he had calmed down, he noticed that Noiz wasn’t the only one that looked different in the room. Even the other kids were dressed in costumes, as if they were celebrating some kind of festival.

“Aoba! I’ve been looking for you!”

Amazed at the sudden change of atmosphere, he looked up to see Koujaku running towards him. Even Koujaku looked different. He had this cape over him and he was holding a.. stick in his hand. But as soon as Koujaku stood right in front of him, he also noticed that his big brother had a pair of fangs, the most apparent feature of his entire appearance.

“Koujaku! What’s happening?” Aoba asked, putting Noiz down while the youngest child crawled towards Koujaku.

“It’s Halloween today! Everyone is playing dress-up. You should also dress yourself up,” Koujaku grinned. 

“But I don’t have any costumes…” Aoba muttered, his voice so small and it sounded so timid. He’d never been part of this kind of celebration before, let alone knowing what to do.

“It’s okay! I’ve got you one!" 

As usual, Koujaku always had his back. Before he knew it, Koujaku was attaching a pair of wings behind him. 

"There! You’re an angel now,” Koujaku said as he beamed gleefully at him. 

But his grin was short-lived as Aoba watched a scowl appear on his face. When they weren’t paying attention, Noiz had crawled his way to Koujaku’s back, now grabbing on his tail and biting at it, his pacified abandoned at his side.

“Noiz!” Aoba called out as he ran towards him, attempting to save Koujaku out of his grasp.

But as Aoba tried to pull Noiz’s away from Koujaku’s tail, Noiz grabbed even harder on it, refusing to let go and Aoba swore he saw a small frown forming in between the youngest child’s eyebrows.

“Bad child, Noiz!” Aoba tried scolding him but it did nothing to stop Noiz from misbehave. Instead, he released Koujaku’s tail from his bite and pulled on it, causing Koujaku to almost tumble over.

“Oi, let go!” Koujaku exclaimed. When Noiz did, he was surprised but even more when Noiz flapped one of his wings and gave him a direct hit on the head.

“You little…” Koujaku yelped, one hand on his head where Noiz had hit him and another clenching into a fist.

“No, stop, Koujaku! He’s still a kid!” Aoba stopped him immediately, hiding Noiz behind him at the same time.

“He always does that!” Koujaku complained. “I didn’t even do anything to him!”

Truth be told, Aoba hadn’t seen Koujaku interacting much with Noiz, let alone bullying him. For some reason, Noiz seemed to hold a grudge towards him. It was as if he’d hated him ever since he first set eyes on him.

“Still, he’s just a small kid. He couldn’t even talk!” Aoba defended Noiz as he hold Noiz’s hand in his. “See, he couldn’t even walk.”

Koujaku clicked his tongue. Admitting defeat, he reached backward to adjust his tail while still scowling at Noiz, who was now staring disinterestedly at Koujaku.

This was what Noiz always wore no matter who he was faced with. And Koujaku swore he was the worst duckling he’d ever met in his entire life.

 


	14. Promise [Clear x Aoba: Babysitter AU]

When the baby was first brought to the nursery, he was asleep, a yellow-colored pacifier in his mouth as he was bundled in a thick matching color blanket. The sight was so endearing Aoba almost felt sinful to reach out to him before he brought the baby into his arms, carefully cradling him as he hummed quietly.

“Welcome to your new home,” he whispered, and all the baby did was fidgeted slightly, without waking up and without knowing that he’d spend his childhood with a person who’d changed his worldview.

Soon, Aoba came to know that the baby’s name was Clear. He was surprised, he’d expected something else, even though he didn’t know what he was expecting. But soon, he thought the name fitted the baby well - it reflected well with the color of his eyes, and when Clear laughed, he thought it was the perfect name for him.

Clear had white-colored hair; it was puffy, soft, and it was one of Aoba’s favorite past time to fiddle with it, either combing it or attempting a new hairstyle on it. When Clear was one year old, Aoba handled him with extra care. He’d carried Clear with him everywhere he went, even though he wasn’t the dedicated babysitter for him. There wasn’t a dedicated babysitter for any child in the nursery; but for some reason, Aoba was attracted to this particular baby. There was something about the way Clear looked at him - his eyes bright and intelligent - and the way Clear gripped his finger in his tiny hand that had triggered a sense of protectiveness from within Aoba. Eventually, he realized that Clear only did the hand holding gesture to him. He only drank from his milk bottle when Aoba was the one who fed him; and he only laughed when Aoba was the one who held him in his arms. He wondered if babies could recognize people, even when they were clearly unable to express themselves concisely. Because if they can, it only meant that Clear had marked Aoba as the one and only person who he genuinely wanted to interact with.

And Aoba didn’t know why he was so persistent with this bright child since the first day he was brought to the nursery.

When Clear was two years old, he started to be able to crawl. Whenever he reached the nursery, the first thing he’d do was jumping off his caretaker’s hands and crawling his way into the room, looking around for a hint of blue before he’d give out a loud, bright sound. Aoba had practically memorized the sound Clear could make. It always had a sense of excitement in it; and whenever Clear called out to him in such an enthusiastic way, he almost heard his name, even though he was sure that it was just his hallucination.

Three years old was the age Clear started to learn how to walk. Aoba remembered holding his tiny hands in his as he kneeled, slowly guiding Clear to stand as the toddler took a step, then another, and slowly, another. Aoba remembered his own recitation of “one, two, one, two, that’s right, you’re doing very well!” when Clear managed to take a few good steps before he tumbled and fell right into Aoba’s chest. For some reason, Aoba had never heard Clear’s cry before. Even when he’d fallen and hurt his skin, he’d always smile brightly at an anxious-looking Aoba. It worried Aoba to an extent. But Clear seemed fine, he grew up well, he ate well, he got along well with the other children in the nursery, and whenever he saw Aoba, he never failed to give Aoba the biggest smile he could give, only calming down when Aoba gave him a gentle one of his own.

There was something about this toddler that Aoba found himself being attached to. As he stroked the toddler’s hair while Clear slept in his cradle, he wondered if Clear was someone sent to look after him after the death of his brother. Perhaps his brother was afraid that he was lonely, and that was why Clear was here now, to accompany him through the days when he needed to get over his own sorrow.

At the age of five, Clear was already a well grown, healthy child. He’d grown some height, and he’d learned how to speak. But some things never changed. Whenever he reached the nursery, the first thing he did would always be running into the room, looking around for a hint of blue, before his smile brightened and in the next second, Aoba would hear the familiar, clear voice of “Teacher Aoba!” ringing loudly in the room. It had become a routine. There wasn’t once when Clear was absent when he should be here. Aoba needn’t worry that he won’t be able to see Clear on certain days because he knew that Clear would be here; he didn’t need to wait too long either. Because every time before he could make out the body of the small child, Clear would have already launched himself into Aoba’s chest, hugging him and excitedly telling him about the list of things he wanted to do with Aoba today.

It was a routine Aoba never wanted to change. Having Clear in his life had made a difference. As ironic as it sounded, he’d learned from the child himself, he’d noticed how he himself because happier with each passing days.

Clear’s existence was like the sun - warm, happy and bright. He painted a shade of brightness in Aoba’s life and soon, Aoba realized that even though he’d have to face contradictions and complications as part of his adult life, his life had become easier to tolerate. Simply because of the addition of Clear, who never failed to brighten his mood up when he needed it.

He didn’t want this routine to change. He was more than willing to take care of Clear for the rest of his life.

But this was life - and with life, change was essential for progress

It was the last day of Clear’s day in the nursery that Aoba found himself facing a sad, pouting Clear, one expression that he’d never seen ever since Clear became a resident in this nursery. Clear was six year old then. He was old enough and no longer eligible to stay longer in this place. Aoba wanted to say something - a word of comfort, maybe - but his words were stuck in his own throat and he found himself gaping at Clear instead, feeling extremely guilty for being unable to be of use to soothe this sorrowful atmosphere.

“I’ll be back.” He heard Clear mutter, urging him to squat in front of the almost crying child as he forced a smile out of his own face.

“You’ve grown up,” Aoba praised, patting Clear on the head and trying to contain the weight on his chest while he continued smiling. “Go find your world, Clear.”

He wanted to be Clear’s world. But his world was here, in this nursery, with many other children who would eventually grow and leave just like Clear did.

But Clear shook his head in an almost aggressive way. Suddenly pushing himself into Aoba’s chest, he sobbed momentarily before he looked up at Aoba with teary eyes. Then, he broke into a big smile - the one bright smile Aoba was so very familiar with.

“I’ll be back to marry you!”

Aoba was stunned for a few seconds before he broke out into a loud laughter. He wanted to tell Clear that it was almost impossible considering their age gap but Clear was smiling so happily now he almost felt bad to burst his bubbles. Patting him on the hair, he could only nod.

That seemed to have effectively heightened Clear’s mood as he pulled himself out of Aoba’s hug, turned his back at Aoba and ran to the gate before he turned around again, grinning happily at Aoba.

“Wait for me, Teacher Aoba!”

Aoba would wait. He would wait no matter how long it’s take. Because Clear told him so, and he trusted both himself and Clear to know that it was only a matter of time before they would see each other again. This time, a more mature and fully grown Clear. Hopefully.

 


	15. Benevolence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had Aoba's persistence, she had Koujaku's temperament; but at the end of the day, she was the both of them -- of which a crucial step had confirmed it for her, by none other but Koujaku and Aoba's best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: Kaoru is the original character I write for Koujaku and Aoba's daughter. She inherits Aoba's light-brown eyes but has Koujaku's dark hair, if that helps with your mental image :3
> 
> This is also one of the longest kidfic story I've written for DMMd (I have no idea how and why I got so absorbed into this but yeah, it happened haha!) and also a story of a grown up kid that's Koujaku and Aoba's daughter, alongside the significant occurrences in her life that'd shaped her into what she is.
> 
> This story is also written with [kemifiro](https://twitter.com/keimifiro) in mind, who has always been a great support to me and my stories, and also a great listener in general. I'm grateful to have known you :')
> 
> Last but not least, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3

Black braids fell benevolently upon her face, creating soft shadows under her cheekbones. Her hair was not too long, not too short. Not too straight, not too curly; perfectly jet black, with shades so dark the strands unreservedly white where sunlight rays fell. Contrastingly, her skin was almost translucent, a faultless inheritance of her other father, thin and without any evident pigments. She looked almost like a porcelain doll; one that was elegant, soft-spoken, and one that was obedient.

Except that she wasn’t… quite so.

The usual long line of women – of which most would often rake over windows, shrieking when Koujaku did as much as wiping sweat off his forehead – has now transcended to the twofold length of lines which men were now included. Their shop was one of the more high-flying places in Midorijima, even becoming a tourist spot now that the land had expanded to a good extent more than twenty years after the Toue Corporation incident.

The growth Midorijima experienced wasn’t great for the most part, but it grew in a moderate rhythm that was enough for the residents to find their feet within their own acceptable pace.

Twenty years weren’t long, weren’t short either. And for both Koujaku and Aoba, twenty years changed everything, giving them a life that was the fruit of their genuine wish to move forward.

She was nothing but charming, growing up in an environment that was both protecting and demanding. Being the daughter of a Rib team leader has preset expectations on her. She grew up being treated like a Queen, her fathers were overprotective, and everyone she met would greet her as if she was one of the greatest things that had ever happened to Midorijima.

She was showered with affection well passed her teen age. Even though she’d come to accept it as how it was, she could scarcely deny the fact of how… _alone_ she tended to feel when she witnessed other children having their own risky exploration while she was being scrutinized every hour, regardless of where she was to be.

Her parents had eyes everywhere and she wholly understood how they would want her to be in safe hands, knowing how chancy her own identity was. She wasn’t utterly alone though; she had her fathers to listen to her when she needed someone to talk to, and she’d grown up playing all sorts of games with them. There shouldn’t be a problem. Everything should be fine. Everything moved according to all that Koujaku and Aoba had planned out for their family.

Except when she started to take some of her _own_ risks throughout her growth, stepping out of her comfort zone every once a while and finding relief in realizing how huge the world could be, at places she never knew existed.

When she was sixteen, she’d come home ever so frequently to have her fathers asking her where she’d gotten her bruises. They’d ask her if she was being bullied – which she would quickly deny – and why she was still smiling despite the palpable cuts on her limbs. Regardless of how they were to ask her, she’d always tell them that everything was fine, that she simply tripped on the way back, and grinning the way she inherited from Aoba as she told them over and over again to not lose sleep over her.

She never wanted to trouble her parents, and the only way she could stop them from being overly apprehensive was to bring herself up into becoming the daughter they wouldn’t need to be too concerned over. For a long time, she’d armoured herself with the essential knowledge, trained her own physical strength, and eventually started to explore different parts of Midorijima by herself. The seemingly treacherous wasteland was one of her favourite places; she had come to acquaint herself with her own army of cats hanging around the area, where she would drop by every few days to feed them. She contemplated about bringing them home, but there was no one excuses good enough for her to convince her parents, so she decided that she’d put up a small hut for them instead. At the very least, it’d keep them safe while she kept an eye out for good opportunities to bring the news to her parents in the meantime.

She was doing so well for so long, until when she came back to the wasteland as she always did, just to see another man playing with the cats – a man that she’d come to know very well.

She was sixteen when she came to apprehend how secrets would eventually be uncovered, no matter how hard anyone tried to keep them.

But all the man did was smile at her when she approached him, acting as if he hadn’t noticed the astonishment on her face.

“They are yours?” he asked when she kneeled by his side, pulling out a bowl of what seemed like steamed carrots, celeries, smashed eggs, from the small bag she was carrying with her.

Kaoru didn’t answer; she didn’t know how to react to this abrupt interaction that was not part of her daily routine.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know the man either; the dazzling smile, the tanned skin tone, and the very prominent tear-shaped tattoo on his face had always been features that Kaoru had grown up with. She remembered hiding behind Aoba when she first saw him, presuming him to be some sort of ‘bad guy’ before the man laughed and said that it must be the tattoos on his neck that had scared her off. She was still small then, and she never knew how to not judge a book by its cover.

But the man never pulled a distance between them. Ever. Every time they met, he would always ruffle her on the hair, smiling in a way that had always reminded her of Aoba and the tit-bits that came after often hauled a scowl out from Aoba. There were times when she’d come to the bad – Black Needle, she eventually knew – by herself, having him to contact her parents before she could just to know that she was allowed to hang around. It’s one of the places that bowled over her the most when she first encountered it. It was dark, dodgy, and very secretive. She felt as if she’d discovered a new place she never knew and it was such an exciting discovery that she was completely engrossed to the ambience before she knew it.

She was sure that her parents would never allow her near such place if it wasn’t for the owner of the place, though.

Despite so, speaking to him had also been one of the hardest things she’d face in her diminutive sixteen years of life. He was always so upbeat, so upfront, and so authentic that it often made her feel guilty for ignoring him at times. It was always him who’d instigate the conversation, regardless if she was even listening. And even though the lack of response was evident, he’d always try hard to keep the conversation flowing, until when the time came for them to part that she felt all the more bad for not being courteous enough to this best friend of his parents.

“It was from yesterday’s dinner,” she mumbled, pushing the bowl of food towards the cats.

“Haha, well, I can see it from the abundance of celery there,” he teased with a laugh.

He allowed a fleeting stretch of silence between them before he opened his mouth, was about to say something, but Kaoru was faster.

“Mizuki,” she said, voice somewhat higher than before.

“Hmm?” Mizuki was quick to respond, still with a smile, still as welcoming as ever.

“Don’t tell my parents,” she said, averting her gaze as she did.

Mizuki seemed taken aback; or that was what she noticed from the corner of her eyes. But he was quick to return to himself before she felt the familiar rumple on her hair again, messing up the tidy strands of hair Koujaku had tediously combed for her before she left home.

“You’re worried about that?” Mizuki beamed. “I never intended to tell Koujaku and Aoba in the first place.”

Kaoru heaved a relieved sigh then, lifting a smile at Mizuki’s direction just in time to catch his bright grin.

She knew she could always trust Mizuki. It was a peculiar instinct she couldn’t quite define herself. Probably it was stemmed from the fact of how she’d grown with him, or how Mizuki had never once broken his promises that had given her this steady faith she now held towards him.

Not knowing what else to say, she focused on feeding the cats, feeling Mizuki’s gaze on her all the time and feeling all the more self-conscious with every passing minute.

“Do you do this every day?” Mizuki finally spoke, almost causing her to spill the bowl of food in her hands.

“Every few days.”

“Since…?” Mizuki asked, eyes still on her.

“…A few months ago, I guess,” she said simply, trying not to sound rude.

“Hmm,” Mizuki pondered then, staring away at long last. “Why didn’t you bring them home?”

“I don’t know how to tell them,” Kaoru said, spilling thoughts that came to her without hesitance.

“You mean your fathers?” Mizuki clarified, earning an instant nod from Kaoru.

“It’s hectic enough at home, and there’s no one to take care of them even if I am to bring them back. I don’t want to cause more troubles for them.”

“So you figured that perhaps building a hut here and feeding them once a while would be a better decision?” Mizuki pulled the words out from her, as if he’d just read her mind.

“It’s the least I could do for them,” she said, brushing her fingers along the thin, soft furs of a brown-coloured cat as it purred indulgently against her palm.

“W-well, you could’ve asked me.”

Kaoru jerked her head up in such a hasty way that she scared the cat away.

“What?”

“I mean…” Mizuki dragged, seemingly considering what he’d just said. “I’ve got space in my house and it’s not hard taking care of cats so if I just leave them food…”

“You mean to say… you are willing to _adopt_ them?” Kaoru’s eyes brightened, her grin grew bigger.

“Well, I—“

“ _All_ of them?” She stood up, waving at the few other cats that’d come to join the food party.

“H-how many are there?” Mizuki stuttered, feeling as if he’d just plunge himself into an agreement of no return.

“Hmm, let’s see…” Kaoru muttered, pointing and counting under her breath. “Eight so far?”

“’So far’,” Mizuki breathed. He looked around distressingly, swallowed down his throat, then finally spoke. “I-I guess I can handle that much.”

“Really?!” Kaoru took a big step towards him, closing their distance. “You can adopt _all_ of them?”

“Y-yeah,” Mizuki said out of punctuated breath, as if he’d just completed a marathon. “Maybe they’ll be good friends with him too,” he ended with an optimistic note, gesturing towards his AllMate, who was resting around his neck, at the same time.

“That’s great!” Kaoru cheered. “So when can you take them in?”

“Erm…”

“Now?” Her eyes sparkled with intense anticipation, her tone visibly heightened.

“I guess so…”

“Okay! I’ll help you carry them then! I know there’s a box here somewhere…”

“It’s fine,” Mizuki hurriedly said. “You don’t need to do anything. Just stay here, don’t move. And I’ll handle the rest.”

So that was how it was. The recurrent visit then had resulted in constant suspicious glares Koujaku and Aoba would often give Mizuki when he was within eyesight, and it took another few more months for the truth to be revealed, just to have Mizuki being collectively laughed at during a gathering in Black Needle almost one year after the incident.

 

* * *

 

 

Kaoru’s upbringing was a balance between a good degree of stringency and affection. Aoba, with fine inheritance from how he himself was raised, had always been the long-winded parent. He would never miss the chance to tell his own daughter about how life worked in general and how it was important for her to know what she wanted for herself. Even so, he’d always make sure to give her good reproach when needed, and it was always then that Koujaku would hop into the picture, calm the situation down then ultimately having her to keep him company outside of their house as they enjoyed tranquil breeze under the willow tree.

“Father said you don’t usually smoke at home.”

Kaoru was seventeen then; grown enough to comprehend mature implications and observant enough to tell how a person her parent was.

“Ah, yeah,” Koujaku replied, a cigarette in between his lips, and with slight clumsiness in his tone.

“He doesn’t like it?”

“I don’t want to worry him,” Koujaku said after a deep breathing in of smoke.

“But he would anyway.”

Koujaku laughed. Dimming the cigarette, he smiled, giving his daughter a swift look before he shifted his gaze to stare at the window, where light was vivid and shadows of Aoba moving around the room could be seen.

“You’re right. He’d worry for the rest of his life, it’s not something he could help anyway.”

“That’s a good sign, then,” Kaoru smiled, one that reminded Koujaku warmly of Aoba.

“But I’ll try to minimize it,” Koujaku reaffirmed. “He might sound harsh at times but that’s only because he cares.”

“I understand,” Kaoru leaned against the bark of the tree, a historical feature that’d existed outside of their house for decades. “It’s just hard to hold back myself from wanting to counter back.”

“I understand that too,” Koujaku beamed resentfully. Being a person who’d once lost control of himself, he deemed that a trait he’d involuntarily passed down to his daughter, which had then contributed to his daughter’s shrewd, heated reaction when she was confronted with any threats whatsoever. He didn’t see it as a completely negative characteristic of hers; in fact, it might even work as an effective defence mechanism that she could use to protect herself when needed.

It’s not possible for both him and Aoba to look after her all the time after all. She’d have to look after her back when she could.

But it was never a good thing if that very temperament wasn’t put under control.

He surely didn’t want history to repeat itself on his own daughter.

“Just try to keep yourself in control when you feel it,” he said with closed eyes, one hand rubbing the fine stubbles on his chin. “You’ll regret things you would’ve done if you can’t keep yourself in control.”

There were things in the past that he never knew how to break it to his daughter. Deep inside, both he and Aoba knew that it was only a matter of time before they broke the truth.

She deserved it, and they wanted to tell her. But time was a tricky piece of chess and yet, time crept up to them when they least expected it, forcing them to shove all the hesitations they once had right out of the window.

It reminded Aoba of how he’d first discovered Koujaku’s tattoos. He was sure that their daughter felt the same as well, dumbfounded when she returned earlier than any of them had anticipated just to catch Koujaku halfway through his dressing up after a good round of lovemaking. She stood frozen at their door frame, her eyes stuck on the immense patch of tattoos on her father’s back, hit by truth she’d never known.

“That’s…” she started, before any of them could return to themselves. Millions of explanations ran through their heads, uncountable feeling swarmed them from the inside. They thought they’d be prepared for this moment, but they certainly weren’t prepared enough, especially not when they were being confronted in such an upfront manner that all they could do was to put in plain words, in the most genuine way they could ever muster.

Aoba was the first to recover. He hastily wore his pants, then tousled himself out of bed, coming face-to-face with his daughter.

“We need to talk,” was all he said before he pulled her out of the room, shooting a knowing nod at Koujaku’s direction before they left.

The talk didn’t happen nearly as uncomplicated as how they wanted it to be though. They were expecting questions, but Kaoru threw none at them. Instead, all she did was sitting in front of them, chafing her thumbs against the hot cup of green tea Aoba had made for them, her breathing slow and steady. The constant exchange of gaze between Koujaku and Aoba told her enough of how tough it was to find the right words, and it took a low sigh from her to break the ice between them.

“I don’t know why both of you are so worked up about this,” she said, her voice equally composed as her expression. “You were the ones who told me to focus on the present and beyond.”

Perhaps she had no idea what she was about to face, perhaps then she wouldn’t appear as carefree the way she was now. It made both Koujaku and Aoba feel all the more worse knowing that whatever they were about to say was probably nothing in the league of what she might have been expecting.

“You’re about to tell me about the tattoos?” she asked. They couldn’t figure out the expression on her face, she still looked impassive, speaking in a way as if they were merely discussing yet another what-to-buy from the grocery.

Koujaku nodded. With that, he pulled is kimono open, revealing most of this tattoos, then sweeping his bangs aside to show her the marks on his face.

“This was imprinted on me when I was young,” he started. “We never told you about my family, and we thought perhaps it’s about time to let you know.”

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s not like it’ll affect what I’m to do from now on, right?” she said, earning an instantaneous smile from both Koujaku and Aoba.

“Aren’t you curious?” Aoba asked. He felt less pressured now, the strain on his muscles waning with time.

“I am. You’re my father after all. But like you’ve always told me, there are things that one can’t help and I shouldn’t let them affect me. I think you told me that from your experiences, am I right? That’s why you moved on, and…” she grinned, the curves on the corners of her mouth ever so gorgeous. “…that’s also why I’m here.”

Since when did their daughter grow to be such a mature person? they wondered. And since when did they get so caught up with their own contradictions that they’d overlooked how their daughter could potentially feel?

How much did they _not_ know about their daughter?

“But again, if it’s related to why you’re so against me getting my own tattoos, then I’d need to know what happened,” she smirked, a gesture both Koujaku and Aoba hadn’t been expecting.

It was a short two seconds of silence before they burst out laughing, causing Kaoru to frown profoundly as she stood, coming to sit by Koujaku’s side.

“Can I?” she asked, her fingers sweeping frivolously along her father’s arm. Koujaku was hesitant for mere seconds before he smiled, nodding as he closed his eyes.

He shivered a tad upon feeling his daughter’s delicate touch on his skin, reminding him of when Aoba had touched it, the gesture as ghostlike as how she was doing it, yet so very cautious, and so very tender.

“It’s beautiful…” she muttered, pronouncing her thoughts out loud. “I don’t know what happened in the past, father, but I like this, I really do.”

In the next moment, Aoba’s hand was on top of hers, gripping it tight before she looked up to his tender smile.

“I love it too,” Aoba said. He traced the flower petals along Koujaku’s back, trying to ignore how Koujaku was at the brink of breaking down. “Every detail of it, I love it. It’s a form of survival, and also a form of strength that I’ve acknowledged from Koujaku. Regardless of how he feels towards them, I’m always proud to take it as a sign of him being the strongest man I’ve ever known.” Then, out of a sudden, he laughed, even though the mix of croakiness in his voice had told him enough of how he himself was at the verge of breaking down. “He’s always been my hero, after all.”

“And both of you are my heroes,” Kaoru supported. “Everything that you’ve told me, I know they came from your own experiences and I’ve never been prouder to have both of you as my parents. I want to make you proud.”

Koujaku turned around then, bringing both his husband and his daughter into his arms.

“You’ve already made us proud.”

Aoba’s nod had confirmed it, and Koujaku’s soft stroke on her hair had told her enough of how he meant every word he said.

She didn’t know about her fathers’ past. But it didn’t matter. As long as she took care of this present and future she was going to share with her fathers, nothing else mattered anymore.

 

* * *

 

Kaoru was twenty when she finally convinced her parents – more precisely, _Koujaku_ – to allow herself to be tattooed. She’d hinted about it, and it was when Koujaku was making her hair for her one summer afternoon that she finally made herself clear.

“I’m getting tattoos.”

Koujaku almost dropped the scissors in his hand. He coughed, returning the comb to his daughter’s hair before he said, as calm as he could muster.

“Why do you need one?”

“It’s not a spur of moment thought,” Kaoru clarified. “I’ve been thinking about it…”

It wasn’t as if Koujaku couldn’t understand why his daughter would want one; perhaps teens simply had phases that they wanted to be part of. But bearing tattoos is a lifetime commitment, and he had to make sure that his daughter was well-aware of it.

“You won’t be able to get rid of it once you got it,” he explained. “You’ll have to carry them on you for life. If you… don’t take proper care of them, they might eat you up and turn into a curse.”

He knew a common tattoo doesn’t work that way, but he couldn’t help but feel conscious over the very thought of seeing ink printed on his daughter’s skin.

“But if I find the right person to do it for me…” she trailed off. “…it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Koujaku’s hand movement stopped. He looked at his daughter in the mirror’s reflection, his eyes reflecting answer he’d already known.

“Right person?” he repeated. “You mean…”

“There’s only one person in the whole of Midorijima who’s both a tattoo artist and a person whom you can trust, no?” Kaoru grinned.  She can already see the light in his father’s eyes, and she knew that one more push was all she needed to lug the yes out of his mouth. “He’ll take good care of me.”

Koujaku hesitated for a few moments, his attention returned to tidying up the loose ends on his daughter’s silky hair before he said,

“Have you spoken to him?”

Could she tell him the truth? Could she tell him that it was precisely because of how _he_ had been ardently talking about tattoos, about crafting them, and it was the gleam in his eyes that had pushed the thought into her? She’d seen his works, she’d been awed by them. And it was that one “ _I think you would look good with one_ ” that had ultimately set her decision in solid stone.

“I will,” she said, deciding that this might not be the best time yet.

“Do you need me to talk to him?” Koujaku asked, but was instantly responded by a quick shook of head from Kaoru.

“It’s fine. I can speak to him myself.”

Koujaku heaved what sounded like a light sigh before he nodded,

“Okay. But anyhow, I’d need to speak to him. And your father.”

Perhaps Koujaku knew that there was no way he could stop her even if he tried. And even without the need to ask what exactly was Koujaku going to talk about with the tattoo artist, she already knew what it would be anyway.

She can’t wait to see the glow on that very man’s face when she told him of her decision.

 

He seemed to be more edgy than anyone else in the room when The Day arrived. He’d been a tattoo artist for the rest of his life, he’d become so much better than when he first started. There was no way he could fail. Yet, when he prepared the instruments, a mask over his face, apparent agitation could be observed from his body language, of how he almost dropped the syringe when he lifted it off the sink after a meticulous clean. It was then that Kaoru noticed the dark shadows under his eyes, the misty later in his irises that was a clear indication of insufficient sleep. She wanted to say something but her fathers’ restlessness was no less than the other so she merely gulped down her throat, only lifting her head up when Mizuki finally walked over to them, both hands raised with latex gloves already wrapped around them.

“Ready when you are,” he said, voice muffled beneath the thin layer of mask covered over his mouth. For some reason, he was averting Kaoru in the eyes and all Kaoru could was attempting to capture his attention until she felt a tap on her shoulder that she looked away.

“Are you sure you’re fine with this?” Koujaku’s voice trembled ever so slightly; she could even feel the quivers in his grasp on her shoulder. As an attempt to console, she placed her hand on top of her father’s, nodding quietly.

“Never been this sure.”

She swore she heard Mizuki hitching a breath when she said that.

Koujaku shifted his attention to Mizuki then, who was now also averting gaze with his best friend.

“Please take good care of her,” he said, leaving the room before Aoba threw a smile at Mizuki’s direction, ruffled Kaoru on her hair and followed Koujaku’s steps out of the space.

“Come here,” Mizuki said, pitch soft, sounding almost diffident.

“We talked about this,” Kaoru voiced out as she followed Mizuki into the room. She swallowed down her throat upon seeing the row of needles lying on the small table next to a single bed. It was kind of intimidating, but this wasn’t part of her concern now. She needed to confront Mizuki, who looked less prepared than any other time he was to talk about his obsession to her.

Mizuki didn’t seem like he was prepared to talk to her but the patience was running low for Kaoru. She couldn’t stand the silence, even more so when they were in a dimmed room, her skin about to be pierced in the next few minutes, and the very person who’d be leaving the permanent impact on her was being irresolute at the moment.

He didn’t feel like the Mizuki she knew and it was excruciating having to question his genuine intention after being the very person who’d encouraged her into this in the first place.

She took speedy steps towards Mizuki, grasping him hard on the hand that Mizuki threw a staggered look at her.

“Are you ready? What’s the matter?” She went straight into the point. Mizuki was a person she’d come to respect; he watched her grow, his patience beyond a typical human’s limit, and she remembered all the cats that they’d adopted together, now sheltered in Mizuki’s house.

Every one of the cats had their own names; Mizuki seemed to be treating them like his own children more than Kaoru herself did.

He was a persistent man, and when he was to be devoted into something, he would totally put his own life into it.

It was unusual to see him staggering like this. He never knew how to keep secrets well, and Kaoru could see whatever he was planning to hide flowing out of him clear as day.

It was exasperating.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked. He didn’t sound as uncertain as before, the resolution returned to him just enough for Kaoru to draw a smile on her face.

“We’ve talked about this, didn’t we?” she said. “We even picked the design together.” She looked towards the bed, where an outline of violet could be seen on the table by its side. Mizuki recommended the design, one that Kaoru had come to grow fond towards. She didn’t know a lot about tattoos, but she knew about Mizuki – of how she’d be in safe hands if he was the one who’d do it for her.

She felt a pat on her head, a smile she couldn’t see but could feel, and then, a clutch on her hand telling her that Mizuki was back to whom she remembered him to be. Perhaps that’s all he needed – that simple yet effective reassurance that this was indeed, what she _really_ wanted.

She took the layers of clothing off her body, her skin flawless and fair. She had no scars like the ones her parents had, but there were small bruises that Mizuki knew were from chasing after thieves and bullies she’d spent a good amount of her own time doing. If he’d never known her, he’d never know that she’s the daughter of the prestigious, very much cosseted Rib team leader on this very island he’d come to cherish.

Koujaku and Aoba had always said that they were the luckiest persons on Earth to have been blessed with a daughter like Kaoru. They’d witnessed her growth in any way possible, supported her throughout her entire life; but yet, she’d grown into a woman of her own, one whom had broken out of her comfort crust and one whom was more than competent to tell right apart from the wrongs. Mizuki had been the next closest witness of her growth after he parents. It still felt surreal to look at her, now all grown-up, and remembering her as the small girl who would always stare pryingly at him whenever he was to talk about his tattoo designs and who had helped him with carrying drinks to customers when he helped to babysit her.

Since when did she outgrow herself; since when did she become such an elegant lady of her own?

When he ran his fingers along her collarbone, testing the texture of her fine skin, he couldn’t help but feel his heart pumping ever so frantically. He was not ready. He was never ready. His fingers shuddered upon visualizing himself piercing a needle through this very skin, staining its fairness with colours, with a different layer of texture that this very person who bring along for the rest of her life. He wasn’t ready to witness how this person -- this very fine lady, the child of two of his best friends, and a person he’d come to grow fond towards – would carry _his_ mark with her.

For the rest of her life.

“Don’t worry,” Kaoru spoke, breaking the suffocating silence in the room. She laid with her back exposed on the bed, head tilting just enough to throw a smile at Mizuki’s direction. “I won’t regret this. Please go ahead and do what you’ve always shown me.”

He took a deep breath. They talked about this. And he’d seen the determination in her eyes. Now it’s simply the time to turn talks into actions.

He’d seen the tattoos on Koujaku’s body, known how tormenting it was for him to carry the burden. But that’s all because they were forced upon him by an opponent he never wanted to be associated with.

Now, however…

He picked the needles up, closing his eyes just fleetingly to help himself sink into the mood. He was reminded of his passion towards tattoos – how the beautiful patterns could bring out the best inner trait of a person, and how they input life into a person’s existence.

He was reminded of _why_ he wanted to paint those pictures on this very person at the same time – of how he’d told her that she’d look perfect with one, and how he’d like to be the one to give her the patterns if he could.

He discarded all unnecessary thoughts, all the hesitations that had been bothering him. He concentrated on the patterns, ignored the sweat trickling down his forehead, his eyes strained from staring too intensely at every striking details. He was working so hard, totally unaware of how Kaoru had been gazing at him through the mirror placed in front of the bed, all the while smiling at his devotion, at how she was being marked by him with every passing second.

Then, at long last, Mizuki looked up, wiping sweat off his cheek with the back of his hand. He stood, eyes stuck on her back for ten whole minutes before he pulled his mask off, revealing a broad grin.

“It’s done,” he said.

He helped Kaoru off the bed, then heaving the tall mirror in one corner of the room to where light was the strongest. And upon seeing the new patterns, she gasped, unable to find the voice in her throat, her gaze completely hypnotized by the spread of tattoos dominating her entire back.

The colour of violent flawlessly harmonized the stretch of violet in a picturesque balance. The fair complexion of her skin brought the strength of the contrast under the light, the few greens that were small leaves embraced the violet as if it was the queen of the drawing. She wanted to touch it so much, she wanted to feel the new layer with her own touch. But all that she could do was stare at it, doing absolutely nothing of what her thoughts were urging her, even allowing Mizuki to do a swift final touch-up to smooth out the texture.

“Violet always reminds me of you – intuitive, grandeur. It derives energy from red – one that your father wears – and integrity from blue, a colour Aoba conveys upon seamlessly. Together, they give life to you – a virtuous existence that equalises both of them out, uniting them, and above all,” he paused, just to smile at her reflection in the mirror. “Allowing them to break through their past agony and delve into a reality that involves a push to a brighter future. It’s because of you that they’re able to do so, and it’s because of them that you’re able to impact people around you.”

She’d never heard Mizuki spoke so much in her entire life. She didn’t know how to respond. Mizuki was usually outspoken, but this level of conversation was an extent too arcane for her to seek for a fitting reaction that could counter what Mizuki had just told her.

Her parents were astounding people – it was a fact that she had always been told, and a truth that she discovered by herself across time. They had their flaws, but at the end of the day, they were also perfectly human, and that was precisely what had made them beautiful.

She loved her parents profoundly, she was thankful that they’d given her a chance to see the world.

“Thank you,” was all she managed to say before Mizuki nodded and waved his hand.

“Alright, I’m done with the sappy talk. I hope you like it. It might need some time for you to get used to it, ah, also, don’t forget the aftercare—well, I guess Koujaku would take care of that,” he ended with a chuckle.

The silence between them stretched when Mizuki wrapped bandages around where she was pierced, all the way until they strolled out of the room, to where Koujaku and Aoba were waiting.

“I’ll take care of them,” she mumbled after she waved and beamed at her parents. “I’ll remember everything you said. Thank you for everything.”

“You’re always welcme,” Mizuki mirrored her grin.

 

She didn’t know about her parents’ past; she didn’t deem it as a boulder that would stop them from moving forward. But when it came a day when she needed to confront that very past for them to proceed with their future, she was all prepared to furnish herself with the realization of it.

It was the only way she could come to repay them for their benevolence, for everything they’d done, every step they’d taken.

She was twenty when she’d first gotten her tattoos, and she knew that time would eventually lead her to somewhere further than where she stood now. Because time waited for no one, and she wouldn’t want time to make her realize how blessed she was to be able to acquaint with her parents in this lifetime.

For them being two of the greatest men she’d ever come to know. 

 


	16. Soulmates [Noiz x Aoba]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your OTP telling stories to their children about how they met for the first time and realized they were soulmates.

Soulmates; a concept they once thought was merely a myth, a lie many told others just to seek for that sense of comfort. It was an idea they never believed it themselves, a thought they perceived to be pathetic – for true love never existed, never needed, and was never real.

But now, as they laid on the bed, with their son sandwiched between them, eyes twinkling with excitement on their coming-soon storytelling journey, they felt a pang of reality hitting them right in the chests upon realizing how surreal they once were to consider that soulmate was a truth too good to be real.

“He was definitely not the sweetest person I had the fate to encounter,” Aoba teaser, throwing Noiz a mocking look that had their son stare in mild amazement.

“Really?” his son asked, eyes round, curiosity palpable on his face.

“Uhuh,” Aoba nodded, sinking himself deeper into the mattress. “Do you consider a person who’d threatened you that he’d break your arm if you don’t fight him as sweet?”

“That’s mean!” their son pouted at Noiz, which in turn, elicited a smirk out of Noiz.

“That’s because your father is so strong that I feel threatened. It’s human’s instinct to protect themselves,” Noiz ended with a retuning mock at Aoba’s direction.

“Who was the one who’d picked fight with me, I wonder?” Aoba scowled, barely visible from beneath his blanket.

“Can’t help it,” Noiz closed his eyes. “It feels like you’ve been seducing me all this while, even before we met.”

Aoba was about to say something before their son interrupted, grin wide as he stared from Noiz to Aoba.

“That’s because you’re soulmates! And soulmates are meant for each other!”

Soulmates – a story between two person that they’d unceasingly told their son; a tale that they themselves could hardly believe.

But now, with three of them cuddled under the blanket, sharing warmth and happiness, they’d come to believe that it’s a concept that existed, that was real and that was, indeed, too good to be true – for they were living proof themselves, being the next hope for their son.


	17. Just A Bit [Koujaku x Aoba]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He said he’d never mind Aoba being a tad more unreasonable, and a tad more violent. But when he actually faces the other Aoba…

It wasn’t long after they’d ended up together that Koujaku noticed _who_ exactly he was facing with. The long absence period between himself and Aoba had been bugging him since forever, but it wasn’t his position to question Aoba about what had happened during his teen years, nor did he have any intention to find the answer out for himself in a way Aoba would definitely not fancy. But the curiosity was real and it was this sense of unsettlement within him that was constantly pushing him to wonder about what _actually_ happened when he wasn’t around.

He didn’t need to ponder for too long anyway. It occurred one night, when they were both sharing intimacy in the room that Koujaku was completely distracted from the lovemaking heat they were sharing, attention completely taken away by how Aoba was so pacifically passionate to the extent that all he could do was laying down on the bed and stare as Aoba straddled on his dick, moving by himself as he took Koujaku’s length in, over and over again, at a complete loss of himself.

And it was after that that Koujaku confronted him, hugging him in his arms as he swiped the strands of hair off his forehead, wiping the sweat off his skin before he said,

“That’s, well, amazing.”

“Hmm?” Aoba responded sleepily. And when he finally looked up at Koujaku, it was then that it occurred to Koujaku that this Aoba was similar yet different from the Aoba he was so very familiar with.

“You’re too slow,” Aoba retorted. His eyes were a glimmering _gold_ and his voice was one tone deeper, causing Koujaku to swallow down his throat before he finally pushed the restrained question out of his mouth.

“You are… not Aoba, aren’t you?” he asked warily, just to be responded by a glare.

“Well, too bad for you that Aoba is two persons, not one,” he countered.

He didn’t answer Koujaku’s question, at least not in an upfront manner. But Koujaku had gotten his answer anyhow. This _was_ Aoba, but a different side of Aoba – one that was what Aoba had mentioned to him years before; the Aoba that was a bit violent, a bit unreasonable, but still him nevertheless.

To make things more complicated, this Aoba seemed to have started a whole new ritual of appearing once in a while, either to surprise Koujaku or just to attempt to piss him off. But every time when he did, Koujaku merely lifted a slightly shocked expression which was gradually replaced by a gentle smile before he would ruffle him on the hair and talk to him like how he would talk to Aoba like nothing happened.

It pissed _Aoba_ even more. And even when Koujaku was to ask the Aoba he was used to about it, Aoba would always stare at him, suspicions written all over his face, which told Koujaku enough of how unaware Aoba was towards his own situation. If this Aoba was no good, then perhaps _the other Aoba_ would be able to explain things better to him then, since it seemed like he was perfectly aware of what was happening at all times.

To be honest, Koujaku wished he had time to solve this mystery puzzle, but this situation occurred when they had not only each other to look after, but their _child_ as well.

And it didn’t help when Koujaku found Aoba staring into the cradle one day when he came back from work, just to witness him stroking a careful finger against the baby’s face while the baby girl smiled at him. Koujaku was _sure_ that this was _the other Aoba_ , because normally, Aoba would’ve already scooped their daughter up into his hands, telling her things that she wasn’t able to understand and smiled so brightly at her that would usually evoke a happy laughter out of their daughter.

But this Aoba, however… Their daughter obviously knew who he was. Tiny hand grabbing on his father’s finger, she continued smiling at him, then spreading her arms towards him, obviously asking for Aoba to hug her.

Koujaku held his breath. Aoba didn’t seem like he knew that he was watching and he intended to keep it that way. He was way too curious to witness what this Aoba would do when it came to their daughter and this was definitely one opportunity he shouldn’t miss.

He needed to stop himself from gasping when Aoba reached into the cradle at long last, carrying his daughter in his hands and rocking her steadily in it. Her daughter laughed then, cuddling in his father’s warm embrace as she started making sounds in a language none of them could decipher.

It was then that Koujaku admitted to the fact that they were no different after all. There was only one Aoba and the very evidence was here, right in front of him, where _this_ Aoba was cradling her daughter, with a tiny smile on his face that Koujaku had never seen before.

His suspicions were put into test again one night, after their lovemaking session, after their afterglow. When both of them were submerged in a solitary atmosphere, the baby started crying, waking both of them up. Koujaku had had a long day and it took him a few minutes later to realize what happened. Glancing sideway at his partner, he noticed that Aoba was awake, naked, staring at the ceiling as if contemplating on something.

“I’m not going to do it,” he said, golden eyes presenting a wavering twinkle. “It’s your child.”

“It’s _our_ child,” Koujaku corrected. He could definitely wake up and comfort his daughter, it was no big deal; both him and Aoba were used to it. But now that it was the first time for _this_ Aoba to encounter a situation like this, perhaps he could make use of this opportunity, just to further prove his assumption right.

“I’m too tired for this today,” he said, burying his face into the pillow. “You do it.”

He was sure that Aoba was glaring at him. The crying sound of their daughter continued vibrating stridently in the space and it was putting every ounce of his willpower to test. While he was _so close_ to admit defeat, he felt movements by his side, then the sound of footsteps and finally, the slowing down of their daughter’s crying voice.

“Don’t cry.” He was so tempted to turn around and witness what exactly was happening now but then it’d disrupt the mood between Aoba and his daughter. All he could do, instead, was imagining images after images in his head that had him gripping tightly on the soft material of his pillow. Then, he heard a soft smooching sound that almost had his heart leaping out of his chest. “You’re safe here.”

He hadn’t gotten to know a lot about this Aoba yet, maybe Aoba still needed more time to break the truth to him and he was willing to wait regardless of how long it’d take him. But from the way he was carrying himself in such a contradicting yet genuine way, he could already tell that this Aoba was no less different from the Aoba he was used to know –

– even though he was just a bit more aggressive, just a bit more reckless, and just a bit more suggestive.


	18. Bonded [Noiz x Aoba]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It amazes him on how a person can grow so fast, and how that very person has come to be one of the most important persons he had the blessing to encounter in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon Divergence AU, featuring Wilhelm, Noiz & Aoba’s son as a grown up.

He still remembered holding _him_ in his hands; the first time he’d met him. He was so small, so fragile, and so _beautiful_ that had Noiz hitching a breath the moment the delicate, soft skin hit his own. It was an experience he’d never encountered, and he thought meeting Aoba was the biggest honour he could obtain in his entire life.

He remembered seeing him grow – how he learned to speak his first word – ‘ _Papa!_ ’ – and how he first chuckled and how he first learned how to walk. He remembered telling Aoba that he looked like him, especially when he laughed, just to be retorted by a pouting husband that he looked like _him_ instead, especially when he glared.

Noiz begged to differ. He could already see Aoba’s shadow in his son the moment he opened his eyes; the moment he caught sight of the stunning pair of light-brown eyes that was a mesmerizing duplication of Aoba’s. Over the years, he’d noticed even more similarities between his son and his husband, often making him feel as if he was dealing with a second Aoba more than anything else.

But perhaps that was how he became so dreadfully in love with his family, because they were all pouring him with love he thought he never deserved in the first place.

It was when his son grew into a fine man of his own that Noiz finally understood what Aoba meant about the similarities he’d seen between his son and himself.

And it took him aback; riveted by the thought that someone like him could grow to become such a perfect man in his own way.

* * *

He’d just closed the last file he needed to work on for the day when he heard knocks on his office door.

“Father?”

Lifting an inherent smile, he took his glasses off, settling it on the table and responded,

“Come in.”

At times like this, he’d still find himself being confounded with the new man he was interacting with; every one of his gesture, his reaction, reminded Noiz dearly of both him and Aoba and it was the best reminder of how both of them had come so far to have own such a precious son of their own.

“Lunch?” Wilhelm grinned, coming to stand in front of his father’s table while he glanced around.

“Sure,” Noiz replied simply. Taking his coat off the office chair, he put it on, walking to meet his son then paced together out of the room.

He’d told Wilhelm that it was fine for him to pursue the road he wanted to, but Wilhelm had come off strong and telling him that he was more than fine to help him out in the company. Theo was delighted, Aoba was surprised, but there was definitely no one person who was more astounded than Noiz. He’d seen his son’s potential across the years, but he never wanted his own position to be a hindrance to his son in seeking for what he really wanted to do after he left school. He never spoke a lot about his job to his son, either. But when his son told him that he wanted to help him out in his company when Noiz asked him about his future plans after he graduated, he was genuinely surprised.

“I wanted to see how it works in the corporate world,” was his son’s justification and who was he to question that? Despite the many qualms in his head, he obliged at the end, contacted Theo, who arranged everything for him, and ended up having to see his son more than he saw his husband on a daily basis.

“Where do you plan to eat?” Noiz asked. They walked out of their suffocating office building, standing in the middle of busy German street. It was 13:00 and many office workers, like them, were out for their lunch break. Many of them could be seen walking along the five-foot ways on both sides of the street.

“Hmmm…” Wilhelm considered, the thin frown in between his eyebrows reminded Noiz affectionately of Aoba when his husband tended to support his chin with his hand the same way as his son while he pondered.

“Is your dad free?” Noiz asked instead, was about to take his Coil out when his son responded.

“He said he needs to look after the nursery kids,” Wilhelm released a dry chuckle. “They seem pretty attached to him.”

“Of course,” Noiz smiled blithely. “So it’s only the both of us then. How about the café?”

“Ah, _the_ café?” Wilhelm grinned briskly. “Sure!”

It was not only theirs, but Theo’s favourite spot for a quick bite. The first time they’d come here was with Aoba, when they were done with their zoo outing. The welcoming scene of the café enveloped them in a vague sense of nostalgia, a metallic brown-coloured table reflected the sun, creating illusionary sparks that almost blinded their eyes before they stepped into the shop, finding seats near to the window.

“The usual?” Noiz asked without flipping through the menu that was placed onto their table by a perky waitress.

“Yup,” Wilhelm responded with a smile.

“Two Caffe Mocha, please. And two sets of potato pancakes,” Noiz ordered as he passed the menu back to the waitress.

“Better not eat too much before we get lectured at,” Wilhelm chuckled bitterly.

“Yeah,” Noiz smiled, reminded of how Aoba had shot them displeased glare when they literally had to force themselves to finish up the pot of beef stew he’d prepared for them thanks to overloaded tummy from lunch.

“How’s everything?” Noiz started, although it sounded more like a conversational starter more than anything else.

“Fine, I guess.”

“’I guess’?,” Noiz quirked a curious eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” Wilhelm leaned back, crossing his fingers on the table.

“You can tell me if there’s anything troubling you,” Noiz said.

“Sure,” his son responded. “there’s no trouble, really. If I’m to define it, it’s probably more refreshing than anything else.”

“Refreshing?”

“Yeah, like, working with you and stuff.”

Ah, did he accidentally give his son pressure with the positions they’re in?

“I’m sorry, please don’t get me wrong, Father,” Wilhelm quickly explained. “It’s more of like… a new experience? Something I’ve never seen before? Hmm…?”

It was always at this moment that Noiz was reminded of Aoba so much he could practically see Aoba’s expression on his son’s – that small frown he was wearing, alongside the small pout on his face when something tough hit him; and soon, he’d sink into his own thought, forgetting that Noiz was actually sitting right in front of him, _staring_ at him until Noiz called him back again.

“Don’t think too hard,” Noiz said, sipping on the coffee that was placed on their table while his son brooded over. “Just take time to get used to it.”

“I am,” his son said. “It’s not that it’s tough, you know, and it’s not giving me trouble at all! In fact, I’m very happy to have this opportunity to work with you.”

“I hope it doesn’t give you unnecessary pressure.”

“Pressure?”

“Like, pressure from work, expectations and such.”

“Oh… oh,” Wilhelm stared, bright-eyed, as if he’d just realized something. “ _Oh_.”

“What is it?” Noiz asked, slightly taken aback by the unexpected reaction.

“I’ve… never thought of it that way before.”

“Hm?” Now this was interesting.

“I mean, pressure and stuff. It never occurred to me before,” Wilhelm elaborated.

Wasn’t this the reason he was finding it hard to get used to?

“I’m more amazed by the fact that I can see more of your working side than anything else,” he explained enthusiastically. “Before this, I could only see you at home, and I never know how you are when it comes to other situations that don’t involve both me and father.”

Now that Noiz was slowly getting where his son was heading to, he could only stare, a sudden realization hitting him in the guts.

He remembered Aoba told him the exact same thing before; when they were in bed and when Aoba caressed the few strands of hair on his forehead and ultimately kissing him on the cheek. He remembered Aoba telling him that he’d love to see more of his other sides – expressions that weren’t the ones he gave Aoba when he was with him. That was the reason why he’d had Aoba working with him for a few years until Aoba decided to explore something else.

He never thought he’d hear the exact same thing from his son all over again.

Like father, like son, huh?

He chuckled quietly, endearment overwhelming him from the inside.

“Did I say something weird?” Wilhelm asked, a face of concern.

“No,” he answered. “Just wondering how it’s possible for both of you to be so similar.”

“Both of us? With father?”

“Yeah.”

This time, it was Wilhelm’s turn to chuckle.

“Well, father said the same thing too, about how similar I am with _you_.”

Of course Aoba did; he’d made that point clear over the years while they raised Wilhelm.

“Guess I’m stuck being both of your sons, after all,” Wilhelm joked, finally digging into his lunch.

Noiz never told him how grateful he was for having him as their son. But he thought perhaps words weren’t needed between them to understand exactly where each of them stood in each of their life anyway.

Because the chemistry and blood that were bonded between them was an eternal, unspoken contract. And when both of their Coil rang at the same time, displaying a message from Aoba – “ _Please don’t eat too much for lunch, I made too much beef stew for myself and both of you are given the mission to finish it.”_ – alongside a picture of a half-full pot of beef stew, both of them instantly knew that they were stuck with each other, like it or not, for the rest of their life.

And they’d gladly accept the arrangement of such fate.


	19. History Repeats; Noiz/Aoba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re going through it again, but they’ll do it better this time. Because they’re now family – and this is what being family means.

They’d anticipated problems way before – even before their son made his way into their life. They remembered when they would spend nights after nights considering if everything was a right decision, and wondering if they’d ever be ready for it. But truth was, they’d never be ready for it. Parenthood was something that they’d never experienced before. It’s a whole new experience and definitely an important turning point in their life. Ups and downs; those were all understatements of what they had to face inwardly. It’s more than just taking care of another human being, it’s also nurturing him, having to face internal conflicts and sleepless nights and a lot of hugging and comfort but at the end of everything, when they looked back, they realized that ‘regret’ was never part of their sentiments to everything they’d committed to.

Seeing their son grow was a delight of its own – from being a baby with no words to how he learned to crawl, to talk and then, to stand by himself and as days, then years passed, they could see themselves in their son so clearly that everything seemed more like a dream than anything else to them.

There were nights when they’d lie on their bed, both saying nothing, merely staring at the ceiling, but yet both clearly awake. They knew what was in each other’s thoughts, and they knew that it was only a matter of time when one of them would inch towards the other, cuddle against them, feeling them, holding each other in their arms, comforting the distracting thoughts that had come to synchronize in each other’s head. Words hadn’t been necessary between them for them to understand each other. And it was particularly useful at times like this when words were the hardest tool to use to materialize their feelings.

But, despite everything, things had gone surprisingly well; they’d raised their son pass his elementary years and now, he’s properly in high school, a miracle of its own.

“Hm?”

“What is it?”

Noiz looked up from his papers, finding Aoba staring at his Coil with a difficult-looking face. Working together in the same room, same building, was something they’d decided upon when their son had just entered high school, finally being able to focus on something else while their son grew. Aoba had done spectacularly throughout the years. He’d been a tremendous help to Noiz. Despite his early road bumps, he seemed to be coping well with everything else and it had been something that Noiz admired very much of him; even when he never told him.

“He’s not coming back for dinner,” Aoba repeated the message on his Coil.

Noiz frowned. It’s been the fifth day in a row now. They had no intention whatsoever to thrust their noses into whatever their son wanted to do and many times, they’d close an eye to whatever he did. But, a limit was still a limit. And, at the end of the day, they’re still his parents. No parents would ever  _not_  care for their child.

“Did he say why?”

“No. The usual.”

The usual “ _I’m not coming back for dinner today. Will be late._ ”. They’d considered bad influences, they’d seen bruises on their son’s body once a while; but they wanted to trust him enough – they wanted to believe that he knew his boundaries despite them being quiet about it.

“Noiz, do you think…”

“Yeah,” Noiz put his pen down, rubbing a thumb against his temple. “I think we should.”

He closed his eyes, trying to figure out a possible solution for this situation when he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, pressing on his tensed up muscles.

“Don’t worry,” Aoba had come to stand behind him, the pressure he input in Noiz’s shoulder comfortable and comforting. “We’ll figure something out, as usual.”

He wondered how he’d ever survive without Aoba. With a smile, he picked Aoba’s hand up from his shoulder, pulling him over so that Aoba was sitting on his lap then, noticing the twinkle in Aoba’s eyes, and the next thing they knew, their lips were on each other, a reflexive impulse of its own.

Words were never necessary. They’d come to know about it ever since they first met each other. They simply knew the best way to confront each other’s feelings, the way only each other knew. And, with another gaze at each other, alongside another deep kiss, they’d have their resolutions made with just that momentary gesture.

* * *

They were both up and awake, sitting in the couch in the living room, leaving the television on but they knew none of them were paying attention to it anyway. They were more concerned with the ticking of clock, the warmth of each other, and every possible sound from their door. Then, when the clock passed eleven, they heard small noises from the door. Giving each other a knowing look, they shifted their gaze to the television, pretending to be interested in the news of a latest building development, and peeking from the corners of their eyes as their son, Wilhelm, emerged from the front door, staring wide-eyed at them when he noticed that they’re still awake.

“I’m home,” he said simply, about to walk into the kitchen when Aoba stood.

“Welcome home,” he said, trying not to sound too stern. “Can you come over here for a bit?”

Wilhelm freeze in his actions, but he did as he was told anyway. Putting his bag on the couch, he sat in another, crouching and visibly avoiding his parents’ gaze.

“How’s school?” Aoba started, still had his eyes on his son. He’d noticed the blood stains on his blond hair; he obviously tried to wipe it off before he came into the house. There’s a fresh bruise near the corner of his eyes, the light-brown of his orbs wavered ever so slightly when Aoba attempted to take a better look at it.

“The usual,” Wilhelm responded meekly, sounding totally unconcerned.

“Have you been catching up?” Aoba pressed. It was an unnecessary question; their son had always been one of the best students in school.

“Yeah,” he answered nonetheless.

“Mind explaining what’s been up with you?” Noiz didn’t seem like he could deal with the slow pace of flow anymore as he interrupted, immediately earning a sideway glare from Aoba.

But, their son seemed to have anticipated it as he lowered his head, trying to hide the scar on the other side of his face before Aoba came to squat in front of him, holding his hands, which are now curled into fists, in his own.

“You know you can always tell us anything,” he said, gentle. “We’re not trying to scold you or anything. We’re just worried.”

“…I know.” He would’ve missed the small voice if he hadn’t been in such a close distance with his son. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“Then you need to tell us what’s going on,” Noiz had stood too, joining his husband and his son. “We wouldn’t know if you don’t tell. We can’t read minds.”

Aoba could but, well, he’s definitely not one to use it for a situation like this.

They allowed their son to take their time; it’s a situation they’re both familiar with and they were certain that their child had inherited that part from them as well – overthinking and having too much thoughts in their heads that it’s hard to put into words. They’d give their son all the time he needed. At the very least, it didn’t seem like he was trying to escape from the topic either, which was a good sign of its own.

“I…” After what seemed to be an eternity, Wilhelm spoke, tone heavy. He swallowed down his throat, pausing, then, taking a deep breath, he looked up, right into Aoba’s eyes, ones that were very similar to his own. “I’m weird.”

“Eh?” Aoba’s eyes brightened while Noiz frowned from behind.

Their son raised a hand then, tracing the fresh scar on his cheek, then staring at the dried blood on his finger. Now that he could properly see his face, Aoba couldn’t help but restrain a hitch of breath. Aside from the new wounds, he was also staring at an expression that he was more than familiar with – one that was dismissive yet expressive, and one that he’d seen on Noiz from a distant history he wished he didn’t need to revisit.

“I can’t–” Their son tried to speak again, but stopped, yet again, seemingly finding difficulties to put thoughts into words. But then, Noiz had come to sit by his side, one arm encircling around his body, pulling him close.

“You’re not weird,” he said, tone flat. When he met eyes with Aoba, they instantly knew.

It’s one of the fears they’d anticipated when they decided to have a child of their own. And, despite knowing the possibility of it, they still decided to commit themselves into it. They remembered holding each other in their arms, with Aoba telling Noiz that regardless of what was to happen, if they could go through it the first then they could do it the same again for the second. They had the experience, and it’s their responsibility to guide their son through.

He grasped onto his son’s hand, lifting it so that he could kiss the scar on the back of it, the urge to break into tears had him swallowing down his throat multiple times. The hand in his was small, but it’ll continue growing, and they’ll see through the process of it.

Now, however, what they needed to do, was to make sure that history would not repeat itself again, and he was sure that the gaze Noiz was giving him now was meant to be a form of agreement.

This is what parents are for anyway – so that they could protect their child when he needed it; the way only parents could.


	20. Hello Again; Noiz/Aoba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’d met each other way before, even though they never knew it themselves.

Oftentimes, he’d dream of a scene – In a place which he knew nothing of the name, he walked, small footsteps being the only thing he could hear as he ambled through streets after streets. He’d never seen such place before in his entire life. It had buildings very much different from the ones he was used to seeing; people around him wore faces he never knew of. But, eventually, he’d always come to a stop in front of a house – one that was way smaller than the one he was living in now. He’d walk up to the door, open it, as if it was his own house, and from the inside of the house, he’d hear a high-pitched shriek, accompanied right away by chuckles then a boy, his blue, wavy hair being the only thing he’d ever come to remember clearly. **  
**

The boy in his dream used to talk to him in phrases and sentences he couldn’t make sense of. The boy in his dream would always smile at him, in a way no one ever did. He never knew the name of the boy in his dream. All he knew was that whenever he was in the same dream, he’d meet him as if it was the most natural thing ever. It’s as if he was being drawn to the very existence of the boy, like they were meant to meet in the dream and nowhere else.

The dream was his comfort zone; an ironic realization that had him wonder if his life had gone out of control if he was to rely on something so intangible like this to keep himself sane.

His childhood wasn’t something he was fond of, anyway. While children made friends and played with each other, he was left to stare in one corner; he was disallowed to have any sort of contact with anyone at all – he was a  _monster_ , and a  _monster_  should be tamed and he should stay out of the way so that he wouldn’t harm anyone else.

> _“Let’s play together again!”_

Everything the boy in his dream said to him did things to him. It’s like he was in his dream simply because he needed to hear those words; words that he didn’t know he needed them himself. It’s pathetic, having to rely on something as superficial as a dream but he couldn’t help it. If there’s one thing he could use to support his crumbling sanity, then he’d hold onto it. If there’s one thing that could serve as a reminder to him, telling him that he’s human and that he deserved to live, then he’d depend on it.

Realizing the difference he possessed had given him a sort of mixed feelings; he couldn’t help how and what he was, but he was never ever embarrassed by it. He couldn’t feel pain, that’s all. He’s not deformed, he did not any any other disabilities. And if that’s what he had to deal with for the rest of his life, then so be it. There’s no point dwelling over something that he couldn’t change. Eventually, he left his heart behind, leaving it only when he wandered into the dream again, only when he met the blue-haired boy. Sometimes, he felt as if the boy held his heart; he felt as if the boy was the only reason why he still felt himself as being human.

And it’s fine. If he could only be human in the dream – then so be it.

And when he decided to get himself out of the slump that was nothing but a distorted reality for him, he brought himself to where distorted reality was made into reality. Rhyme gave him what he needed, so he chased after it, no longer bothered if reality was reality or if it was something else. For someone who couldn’t feel pain like him, it didn’t matter anyhow.

Then, when he set foot in Midorijima, the true reason of why he decided on this very place finally dawned upon him – the streets, the building, the whole vibe of the place; everything resounded of nothing but the very same image he’d gotten in his dream. It was surreal.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to remember where his dream had left for him, trying to remember the scent of the air, the buzzing of noise in his ears, the breeze wrapping him in a firm comfort shell that he knew no one could break. With every new step he took, he heard more sounds, then a voice, a distant voice that he was familiar yet unfamilIar with.

> _“I’ll be your friend!”_

He stopped in front of a house; a normal house that was nothing outstanding, nothing that looked like the building from where he was from. Yet, the longer he stared at it, the stronger the sense of nostalgia stemmed within him – the feeling of warmth, of family; everything had come together, every piece of it reminded him vividly of the promise he’d made with someone: someone who was residing in this very place.

> _“You can come anytime you want!”_

_What’s your name?_  he remembered asking in his heart, causing him to close his eyes again, trying hard to remember what the boy had said back then.

_“Hm? My name is Ao–”_

* * *

There was a boy in his dream. Every time he was in the same dream, he’d always see the same boy, standing outside of his door, just staring, as if he had something he wanted to say. His grandmother had told him not to deal with strangers and he knew how dangerous they could be. But for some reason, the boy never felt like a stranger to him. When he looked into his pair of lime-green eyes, it’s as if he was seeing himself in him. Loneliness; the feeling of being abandoned. And, before he knew it, he had walked towards the boy, smiling as he held his tiny hands in his.

He wanted to talk to him, even though he knew nothing of what he should be talking about. Yet, he tried. He talked as much as he could, despite the lack of response. He shared everything he had with the boy, his heart did a weird flip every time the boy showed just any sign of response. When he touched the fine strands of the boy’s hair, it’s like he was touching something soft that’s not entirely tangible.

The boy never said anything. But he accepted every gesture he could give him. He’s like a secret friend he’d made in his dream; it made him look forward to sleeping and meeting him again at night.

And, before he realized it, this very dream of his had become his second home. This ‘friend’ he’d made in his dream had become the only person that would distract him away from reality, from how he was alone, how he had lost everything when he thought he’d finally found himself a safe sanctuary.

Perhaps the only reason he’s meeting this boy was to replace the void that the cruelty of reality had left in his heart. Perhaps the boy was nothing but his imagination; a person he created to comfort himself. Yet, he was fine with it. In this dream, the boy was real – he could touch him – his short, blond hair, his tiny hands – and in this dream, he could be the person he needed in real life to someone else.

But, as he grew, the frequency of him having the dream started diminishing greatly. When he went to sleep, he’d wake up seeing nothing at all. And as time passed, he started to wonder if he’d been imagining things. He could no longer tell if he was still sane, if his existence was real, if everything he was experiencing was even real life.

And then, moving into his teenage years had him forgetting about everything, discarding everything aside, laughing at his childhood confusion like a joke of the century.

He’d forgotten about the small boy with strawberry-blond hair, the boy with expressionless yet genuine pair of lime-green eyes.

He’d forgotten about the boy whom was his only friend after he’d lost everything.

But, what he never knew was – the boy never forgot. He never knew that everything that had happened in his dream wasn’t only his, but a shared experience with someone else. And he never knew that that very person, unlike him, had remembered everything, nor that he knew that he’d stood right outside of his house, pondering about everything they’d shared with each other in the dream, just before he met him.

And for all he knew, _Noiz_  was just another stranger, yet a friend he was bound to meet – this time, no longer in the dream.


	21. Good Father; Noiz/Aoba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What exactly is a good father? He doesn’t have the answer – but perhaps Aoba has it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Kodomo no Hi!

He would never know how to describe the feeling of being a father. Holding a tiny child in his hands was something he’d never imagined himself doing. He was used to hurting people, and he was used to be being hurt. Thanks to his inability to feel, he never had control over his own strength, which in turn put him into great troubles that was why he was being called a monster. But Aoba had told him that everything of those should be put in the past and what he should focus now was to acknowledge the fact that he was holding a baby in his hands – one that’s his own child – and he’d have to take up the responsibility as this very child’s father for the rest of his life.

Seeing his own child grow was a delight of its own, despite the many times he found himself having a terrible migraine from unexpected complications. But it was when he first heard the child calling him “father”, to when he first learned how to walk, to how he learned how to speak that he realized that every other unpleasant experience he could’ve encountered throughout his parenthood years was worth it after all.

He’d never imagine that this day would come, when he would find himself being so engrossed over the idea of being a father, and when he was even qualified to be as one.

“You’re having that look again,” Aoba pouted at him one night, after their usual lovemaking, when they were simply lying around, chatting away.

“What look?” Noiz lifted a brief smile.

“That disgusting look when you think about something embarrassing.”

He didn’t even know he had that kind of look. 

“Thinking about something?” Aoba pressed.

“…Nothing much,” Noiz said, not knowing how to describe.

“Is it about our son?”

Exactly how much does Aoba know about him, though?

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Aoba continued, assuming it to be so. “I remember when you were all ‘ _Don’t joke around_ ’ when I brought it up. Now look at you,” he ended by giving Noiz a teasing smirk.

Noiz looked away. He wondered what had made him say that before. And he was glad that Aoba had insisted of him; of course he would – Aoba seemed to know Noiz better than he knew himself after all.

While he pondered, he felt Aoba’s hand closing towards his, then entwining their fingers together.

“It’s amazing,” Aoba repeated. “To be able to see a child grow… to be honest, I would’ve said the same thing as you if it wasn’t for you.”

Noiz’s eyes brightened. Turning around, he met gaze with Aoba’s eyes, finding Aoba embracing him in a snuggly hug after.

“I never knew what it’s like to have a proper family. You know, my parents left me when I was small.”

He’d heard about it, and he sometimes still worried if Aoba was still affected by it.

“Having a family of my own sounds like a responsibility too much for me to shoulder,” Aoba admitted. “I don’t have a clean record to back me up.”

“Me neither,” Noiz joined. 

“Of course,” Aoba chuckled, pinching the tip of Noiz’s nose. “If it’s not because of you, I would never consider having a child ourselves.”

Noiz perked a curious eyebrow then.

“You and I, we never knew how it was to grow up with a pleasant childhood,” Aoba explained, sounding as if he was talking to himself. “And I thought, perhaps that’s exactly the reason why we could have our own child.”

When Noiz tried to understand what Aoba meant by that, Aoba sat up, grinning at him, then grasping both of his wrists and hauling him out of the bed.

“C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” Noiz asked, yet still following Aoba out of the room.

Aoba didn’t answer; instead, he brought Noiz to a room located just a few feet away from theirs, then pressing a finger against his own lips.

“He should be asleep now,” he whispered, slowly yet carefully opening the door to reveal a dark room.

Both of them walked to the bed, where they found a small bundle on it, the sound of soft breathing resounded steadily in the quiet room. Aoba sat by the side, stretching a hand to touch the fine strands of hair on the child’s head, all the while with a smile on his face. 

“He has your hair, it always reminds me of you,” he said under his breath.

“And he has your eyes,” Noiz followed, joining Aoba to sit by the side of the bed. 

“Whose personality do you think he’ll inherit, eh?” Aoba joked. 

“Whoever it would be, he’ll definitely be one reckless child,” Noiz answered with a trivial smile.

“Haha,” Aoba laughed softly. “We don’t have very good genes, aren’t we?”

Noiz responded with a sigh. He took the child’s hand into his, rubbing a thumb against the back of it before he found Aoba leaning his weight against his arm.

“I still can’t quite believe it, to be honest. Sometimes I think about it and wonder if everything is just something I make up in my head. But then, when I see him with my own eyes, when I touch him like this, everything feels real.”

He paused, just to look at Noiz.

“This is our family, Noiz.”

A pang of warmth hit Noiz directly in his chest as he nodded, inching close so that he could kiss Aoba. Everything that had happened now was only made possible with Aoba. It was Aoba who’d told him that he deserved a child, that he deserved a family despite everything he’d done in the past. It was Aoba who’d told him that it was not too late to revive the lost childhood both of them deserved.

Aoba changed his life and gave him one that was way,  _way_  too much for him to own.

“I really want to make love to you now,” Noiz smirked in between kisses.

“What? We’re just done.”

As a response, Noiz kissed Aoba deeper, one hand caressing the cheek of his face before he spoke again.

“It’ll never be enough.”

Aoba was too much for him – and despite him saying how much he didn’t deem himself as a good father, he knew that Aoba would prove him wrong. 

He always did.


End file.
